


A Nuisance Though Thou Art

by wedgetail



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Affection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Gen, Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedgetail/pseuds/wedgetail
Summary: Three and a half years have passed since Empress Chenelo's death. Not even the imperial family gives much thought to her son, who is in the care of Setheris Nelar, in the distant Western Marshes and far from the court.But vexing news come from Edonomee: Nelar is dead and Maia is without a guardian.The emperor will have to decide on a new arrangement. For the sake of expediency, Nemolis volunteers to go to Edonomee and bring his half-brother to the Untheileneise Court. After all, the sooner a new guardian is found, the better.
Relationships: Maia Drazhar & Nemolis Drazhar, Maia Drazhar & Varenechibel IV
Comments: 423
Kudos: 224





	1. The Letter

“Serenity?” the second assistant secretary said in a tone that suggested he expected to be abraded for the contents of his words. “This letter concerns the Drazhada household.”

“Nemolis, if you would,” Varenechibel said. He did not so much as glance up to see what had discomforted a member of his staff. His attention was on the stack of letters the chief secretary had prepared over the course of the morning and he hastily scribbled his signature across the bottom of each one.

Nemolis reached across the table to take the letter even as he wondered, once again, why they bothered with this pretence. Formally, the imperial secretaries were not to read private correspondence between members of the ruling family. In practice, the delineation between private family affairs and matters of state was often fuzzy, and the secretaries knew all anyway. In any case, it was likely only Nemolis’ sister, Nemrian, with some inane request. The rest of the family were presently at court and could petition the emperor directly.

To Nemolis’ surprise, the wax seal had been imprinted with a finger, not with Nemrian’s seal. The fingerprint was small too. Nemolis could only assume she had used her pinkie finger. His bemusement at his sister’s antics turned into outright confusion as he unfolded the letter and stared at unfamiliar, somewhat blocky handwriting.

_To his imperial serenity, Varenechibel IV, emperor of the Elflands, greetings._

_We beg your pardon for drawing your attention away from matters of state, but we feel we must seek your guidance. Our guardian, Osmer Setheris Nelar, took a bad fall two days ago and despite the efforts of the doctor who attended to him, passed away in the early hours of this morning._

_A priest from the village closest to Edonomee has agreed to undertake the necessary preparations on the body and to conduct the needed rites. We have also advised Osmer Nelar_ _’s wife of his death._

_We are uncertain, however, as to what we are to do with ourselves. Osmer Nelar and ourselves were the only residents at Edonomee. By our estimation, there are funds enough to pay the staff for another six weeks. After that, we fear, they will seek other employment._

_We humbly appeal to you to direct us as to how we are to proceed forthwith._

_With the highest of regards,_

_Maia Drazhar_

“Father,” Nemolis said with sufficient vehemence to draw his father’s focus away from his work. “This is from Maia. Setheris Nelar is dead and he’s without a guardian.”

Varenechibel’s sole response was to extend his hand. Nemolis handed the letter over and waited, keenly aware that all four secretaries in the room had paused their work too. And although from his vantage point he could not see his father’s nohecharei, he all but felt them snap to hyper-focused attention.

The chief secretary — a man more brave than prudent — was the first to break the stiff silence. “Who wrote the letter on the archduke’s behalf?”

“To us, it looked to have been in his own hand. Competent calligraphy, but lacking the fluidity of an adult’s hand,” Nemolis replied. The wording was not that of a child, but Nelar had been a barrister once and three years was sufficient time to impart some of that skill onto another person. Or perhaps Maia had merely used some old correspondence of Nelar’s as a template.

“We didn’t anticipate the archduke to be literate,” the chief secretary replied.

Nemolis tapped his lacquered nails across the rosewood tabletop. “He’ll be turning twelve this Winternight. Certainly old enough to manage a letter.”

“Literate or not, he’s a dolt nonetheless,” Varenechibel declared as he flung the letter back to the second assistant secretary. “Send someone out to the marshes to look at the boy and assess the situation so that we may make a decision on his future. In the meantime, issue a reply telling him to stay put and supply him with funds to pay the servants through to the spring.”

“Spring is months away,” Nemolis replied,” and by the sound of it, he’s wholly alone out there. Why not summon him to court and decide where he’s to be placed once he arrives?”

“The archduke has always lived in the rural parts of the Ethuveraz,” the chief secretary replied. “It is our opinion, serenity, that for a child accustomed to a quiet country life, the atmosphere of the court would be distressing. It would be kinder to leave him in familiar environs under the care of servants.”

“How can we trust that the servants won’t abuse their positions without an adult to supervise their behaviour?” Nemolis shot back and although he did not hope for much, he turned to his father in expectation. It was the emperor, not Nemolis or the chief secretary who would have final say on this.

Varenechibel for his part had not exploded yet, which was a good sign when one considered the short tether he had for any matters even tangentially related to Empress Chenelo. Nemolis suspected that news of the latest successes out in the Evressai Steppe received this morning were buoying his father’s temper.

“It’s at least four days travel between the court and Edonomee,” Varenechibel said. “It would be quicker to have him brought to court and have the matter settled here rather than having messages sent back and forth, especially once the winter storms are upon us. Have the boy fetched and brought before me.”

“We shall have an airship arranged, serenity,” the chief secretary replied.

Varenechibel’s ears jerked up with irritation. “No. This matter is not urgent enough to merit the expenditure. He can travel by horseback.”

In sooth, the expenditure was a concern. The rising cost of transportation had been a topic of vicious debate at a session of the Corazhas the previous week and the emperor was not remotely pleased by the present state of his treasury as a whole. But Nemolis had to shake his head as he imagined an eleven-year-old boy shivering atop a horse day after day. Half of the Ethuveraz lay between the Western Marshes and the Untheileneise Court and while it was not yet winter, the warmth of the summer was already a distant memory to all but the southernmost reaches of the Ethuveraz.

“An you won’t spare an airship for him, we can bring him in ours,” he said. “We are already due to leave for Thu-Evresar tomorrow morning. We shall carry out our scheduled visit to the prince’s residence, but then we will detour to Edonomee to fetch Maia before returning to the court. Would that be acceptable, father?”

“Truly? Fine. An it so please you,” Varenechibel said with a mirthless chuckle.

“It would, father.”

Nemolis forced a smile, but it was moot. Varenechibel’s attention was already reverted to the rest of the day’s correspondence.


	2. Edonomee

“Do you concur, your highness?” Kirilen asked.

The man had been in Nemolis’ employ as a secretary for two years now. But he was either yet to learn the art of recognising when the crown prince’s attention drifted, or he knew exactly, but found some hidden enjoyment in highlighting his employer’s lapses. Whichever was the truth, the fact remained the same: Nemolis had lost track of what was under discussion a long time ago.

But surely, it was nothing of importance. Kirilen and a host of other people from both the chancellor’s and the emperor’s offices had spent much of the past week preparing Nemolis for this visit to Thu-Evresar. With half an hour remaining until the airship moored at Andarnee, the prince of Thu-Evresar’s sprawling estate on the outskirts of Lohaiso, what could there be left to say?

“Merrem,” Nemolis called over an airship crew-woman who hovered at the partition that ran through the middle of the airship’s passenger cabin. “Would you be so kind as to ask the captain how long it would take us to reach Calestho?”

The woman’s ears dipped, but her voice was firm when she replied, “Calestho is a touch over an hour’s flight from Lohaiso, your highness. We will confirm the exact travel time with the captain.”

“Hold on. One moment please,” Nemolis said softly.

He had clarified the practicalities with one of his father’s clerks before he departed the court this morning. Edonomee lay about fifteen miles west of Calestho. There would be a mooring mast for the airship; masts had been installed at every Drazhada estate in the previous decade to facilitate quicker communications and as a security measure. Nemolis thus guessed a ninety-minute flying time directly to the estate. They would need the same length of time for the return trip, plus some hours to sort out whatever disarray Nemolis would find at Edonomee when he arrived. It would take at least half a day of Nemolis’ time.

Unfortunately, he could not just send the airship to Edonomee while he carried out his work at Andarnee. Protocol dictated that the heir to the imperial throne must always have an airship on standby in the event some emergency required his immediate return to the capital.

But that letter refused to budge from Nemolis’ mind. Those who had heard about its arrival chattered in excited tones about how it looked to have been personally written by the emperor’s youngest; evidently, they expected the child to be an utter cretin. No one seemed to pay attention to the substance of the text. When one stripped away the formalities, it amounted to: _Father, the man who is supposed to be caring for me is dead. I am alone in the middle of nowhere, I have no idea what to do and I_ _’m scared. Please help._

Neither Nemolis nor any of his other siblings had ever penned such a letter. But then, none of them had ever had reason to do so.

He sighed. _Father is sure to be scowling at me for months over this, but so be it._

“A change of plans, Kirilen,” he said. “We’ll make a stop in Lohaiso and send a message to Asharinus with our apologies and explaining that our airship has had to detour due to a family emergency. The airship will then proceed directly to Edonomee.”

Kirilen cocked his head, a smile playing in his lips as he motioned to the crew-woman. “Merrem, please advise the captain of the amendment to our itinerary. Your highness, shall we draft the letter to Prince Asharinus on your behalf?”

“Thank you, no. Asharinus is an obliging man, but not so obliging that our delay will be accepted without comment. The message will be better received if the letter is penned in our own hand.”

The hunting lodge of Edonomee was a single-storey house built of dark stone. Bare branches of climbing ivy-covered much of the facade. That ivy would have provided a welcome spot of colour thought the summer months. But the leaves had withered once autumn set in and left the house as dreary as the sprawl of flat, featureless marshland that started just past Edonomee’s property boundary and stretched out all the way to the grey horizon. On the other hand, perhaps the marshes too looked more vibrant in the warmer months.

A tall elf whose gaunt frame resembled a scare-crow’s opened the door before Nemolis and his retinue were at the bottom of the front steps. He bowed slowly, then said, “Welcome to Edonomee. Are we right to presume you are from the court?”

“We are,” Nemolis replied. “We wish to speak to the archduke.”

“Of course. Please come through to the reception room.”

The manservant led them through a poorly lit hallway and to a better lit, but shabby reception room. Nemolis and Kirilen took seats in the leather armchairs while his two guardsmen remained standing, one positioned on each end of the room. While they waited, Kirilen bent down to examine an overly ornate fireplace screen. Nemolis meanwhile peered up at his father’s portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. It was a copy of an official portrait commissioned nearly twenty years ago. The rest of the room’s furnishings looked even more dated.

A boy appeared at the room’s threshold, dressed in mourning black and his dark hair pulled back into a somewhat lopsided knot at the base of his scalp. His eyes anxiously swept the room, pausing on Kirilen as the secretary rose from his seat. The boy then seemed to steel himself. He tilted his chin up and strode in.

“Good day. Are you Maia Drazhar?” Nemolis asked.

“Yes,” the boy answered. His voice was high-pitched and thin.

“I’m Prince Nemolis Drazhar, the oldest of your half-brothers. We have met before, but you were only a babe then, so you would not remember. I am, therefore, pleased to make your acquaintance properly this time, although I do wish this meeting had occurred under better circumstances. My condolences on your recent loss, Maia.”

Maia’s face scrunched up and Nemolis wondered if he had overwhelmed the child by saying too much at once. Just as the silence threatened to turn awkward, however, Maia bowed deeply. “Thank you, your highness. I too am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Nemolis will suffice. We are family after all,” Nemolis replied when Maia straightened up again.

And, truly, they were. The grey skin and goblin-dark hair was the first thing one saw of course. But Maia did not have the stocky goblin-build one would have expected. And his eyes, wide with uncertainty, were that familiar shade of grey Nemolis saw whenever he peered into a mirror. This boy was as much of the Drazhada as any of Nemolis’ other siblings.

“If that’s what you prefer, Nemolis. Would you care for refreshments?” Maia asked. He sounded as if he was attempting to recount a half-forgotten lesson and perhaps he was. Someone had taught him the basics of court etiquette, but there would not have been many opportunities to put those lessons into practice while one lived out in the Western Marshes.

“Thank you, but no,” Nemolis motioned towards the armchair Kirilen had vacated. “Why don’t you sit down so you are more comfortable while we talk.”

“Yes, of course.” Maia hesitantly took the seat Nemolis had indicated.

“Your letter reached the court yesterday. Our father was… well, he wished to have the situation investigated. Because I was already due to make a trip to Thu-Evresar today, it was agreed that I would detour to Edonomee to see you and to gain a better grasp of the situation here. It does hearten me that you seem hale. But what precisely happened to Osmer Nelar?”

“No one saw how it happened,” Maia replied after a long moment. “Haru, the grounds-keeper, found him on the steps by the back door with a bad injury to his head. It had been raining earlier that night, so Haru thought Seth… Osmer Nelar might’ve slipped and lost his footing. Pelchara got the doctor from the village and they thought for a while that he might be all right. But then he died two days later.”

Maia twisted his hands and stared somewhere around the level of Nemolis’ knees. Two days between Nelar’s fall and his death, then it would have taken at least four days for Maia’s letter to reach the court. This was fresh news for Nemolis, but a week had already passed for Maia. Nemolis could only hope that the servants had been kind in that time.

“I’m so sorry, Maia. You must’ve been very frightened and upset. Our father would like you to come to the Untheileneise Court so that he may make a considered decision on where you should live from now on. You’ll come with me to Andarnee, then we’ll return to the court together. How does that sound?”

“The emperor’s word is law.” Maia’s gaze sank to the floor and he pressed his fingers together so tightly, the skin around his knuckles began to pale. “Shall I go and prepare to leave?”

“Yes, go pack what you wish to take with you. Kirilen, please help the archduke.”

Helping a child pack was in no way within the remit of tasks a secretary typically performed, but Kirilen gave Nemolis a knowing look as he trot out on the back of Maia’s heels. The tall man-servant reappeared, echoing Maia’s offer of refreshments and Nemolis, uncertain of how long he would be waiting for Maia, requested tea. A few minutes later, a serving girl who looked to be about fifteen arrived with a slightly battered tray.

“Might we trouble you for some information about how the house was run before Osmer Nelar’s passing?” Nemolis asked.

The girl, as pale as an elf could ever be, blushed crimson. “We fear we won’t be much help, your highness. We only started helping out about the house a few months ago. But our mother is the cook here. She has been working here since Osmer Nelar and his grace settled at Edonomee.”

“Is she in the kitchen now? Please take us there.”

The girl’s eyes widened, but she had neither the experience nor the self-possession to even attempt to talk him out of his request. His steaming cup of tea in his hand, she took him back through the poorly-lit hallway and to the kitchen.

Nemolis guessed all of the furniture and most of the cooking equipment were original, dating back to when the lodge had been built. It was not just shabby but verged on derelict, although Nemolis could see that here and there the servants had attempted to repair the worst of the defects. New hooks had been driven into the wall below those that had rusted away and the broad prep table in the centre of the room had one of its legs replaced sometime in the past decade.

But while the kitchen was grim to look at, there was nothing unusual about that. Most households prioritised the upkeep of public and family spaces over that of the servants’. The sole thing that stood out to Nemolis was the fortress of painted, wooden blocks that boldly rose on one end of the prep table.

“Your highness,” said the portly woman who had been preoccupied with a pot of something on the stove before the serving girl and Nemolis’ entrance interrupted her. She curtsied deeply, but gracelessly — the typical mannerism of servants who never expected to be seen by their employers. “How can I... Rather, is there ought…”

“We won’t disturb your work for long, merrem. We hoped to find out a little more about the household of Edonomee so that we can better inform our father upon our return to the capital,” Nemolis said.

The cook nodded and set down the ladle in her hand. “It’s very kind of you to come yourself, your highness. We only expected someone from the emperor’s or possibly the chancellor’s staff, and not for some time yet. But it’s a relief that you’re here as soon as you are. His grace is no trouble to look after, but he needs more than a cook and two man-servants.”

“Is there no tutor or nurse?”

“No. Osmer Nelar always taught his grace himself. And we never heard of his grace having a nurse, not even while his mother was alive.”

Nemolis frowned. Although he and Nelar were kin, they had never been close. Nemolis knew enough of the man, however, to doubt that Nelar made for a patient or effective teacher. But he set that question aside for a later discussion. “How would you describe his grace? Is he generally in good health?”

“He’s quiet,” the cook replied. She glanced over to the fortress on the table and went on, “And lonely. There’s no one his age within miles of here and Osmer Nelar seldom allowed him to go to the village where there are other children about. As to his health, we know of no particular concerns. He’s sick no more often than any other child. We worry only that he so seldom finishes a meal. Would you make sure, your highness, that he eats his share while he’s in your care? He eats so little as is and even less when he’s upset.”

“We will endeavour to do so.”

Thinking on it again, Nemolis realised that while Maia had the fine bone stature of the Drazhada, he seemed to lack the famed Drazhada height. He was four years older than Nemolis’ eldest, yet there was all of two inches difference between Maia and Idra when it came to height.

_Maybe he’s overdue for a growth spurt. But even so, I’m inclined to agree with the cook. This is no place for a child._

“We shan’t pester you all day, merrem, but one question more. Did Osmer Nelar and the archduke have a close relationship?”

“Oh. We do not wish to —”

“Please, if there is anything you feel needs to be said, say it. For the archduke’s sake.”

At that, the cook’s lips pursed and she sighed. “In sooth, your highness, Osmer Nelar was a bitter man, who came to appreciate a glass of metheglin more and more with each passing year. We are certain he was drunk when he fell and cracked his head open. From what we saw, he had no affection for his grace. And his grace had no reason to love him.”

“We believe we understand. Thank you for your candour,” Nemolis managed to sputter out once the worst of the shock passed.

He considered again the shabby house and the vast expanse of wasteland it neighboured. And he was still looking for some better, more reassuring words to the cook when the man-servant marched in, looking exasperated.

“His grace expects to be ready to leave in a quarter of an hour, but he wonders if, in consideration of the time, you would lunch here before departing?” the man said.

Nemolis considered the proposal. They would be in that awkward time slot between lunch and dinner by the time the airship arrived at Andarnee. Moreover, the cook’s plea regarding Maia’s poor eating habits was fresh on Nemolis mind. At the same time, Nemolis and his staff had descended on the household of Edonomee without warning.

The cook must have sensed his concern, because she piped in. “We have enough in the pantries for you and your staff, your highness. Though it’ll be simple fair.”

“We will appreciate anything you prepare,” Nemolis replied. “Please advise the archduke that we’ll be staying for lunch and that he’s welcome to take as long as he feels he needs.”

“In that case, his grace enquired if the airship crew will also require food while they wait,” the manservant said. He seemed to struggle against an urge to burst into laughter.

Nemolis was unsure whether the question itself had provoked this or Nemolis’ reaction to it. Nevertheless, he made the conscious effort to unfurrow his brows, and cleared his throat. “It’s a generous thought, but airship crews travel with crew provisions stocked on board, so there’s no need to fret about them.”


	3. Thu-Evresar I

Prince Nemolis’ airship, _the Tranquillity of Aveio_ , was the largest airship Maia had ever seen. Every surface of its interior gleamed as if the airship had come off the factory floor only days before and the cabin must have been modified for imperial service. The front portion was partitioned off to create an enclosed inner compartment, which was equipped with a broad mahogany table and six wide leather seats. Maia had assumed this was merely a way to offer the crown prince some privacy, but once the airship engines started up, he realised that the partition was also heavily insulated. The roar of the engines was muted and those seated inside the partition could speak without having to strain their throat to be heard.

And Nemolis, unfortunately, seemed in the mood to make conversation.

“Have you been in an airship before?” he asked.

“Yes,” Maia answered. “When my mother died.”

“Ah. Of course.”

Maia had regretted suggesting for Nemolis to linger in Edonomee for lunch by the time the first of the food had been served. The man’s questions seemed never-ending. He wanted to know about the servants at Edonomee, about the local village, about the wildlife out in the marshes and a host of other trivial things. Maia couldn’t fathom why the crown prince of the Ethuveraz would be interested in what flocks of migrating birds Maia could spot from his bedroom window. And, more importantly, Maia had no idea how Nemolis would react if Maia gave an answer that displeased him.

“Do you know much about Thu-Evresar?” Nemolis asked.

Maia looked down at his clenched hands. He could recount many an interaction with Setheris beginning in the same manner, only Setheris would be acerbic from the start and his questions more pointed. _Boy!_ _What knowest thou about Thu-Evresar?_ Sometimes Maia would have a tolerable answer for him, but that never pleased Setheris. He would only continue questioning Maia until Maia ran out of answers and had to concede his ignorance. When Setheris was in a good mood, he would restrain himself to a “dim-witted hobgoblin” or some other demeaning sobriquet. When he wasn’t, he would make his displeasure known with a backhand across Maia’s face.

Thus far, Nemolis only seemed mildly frustrated. But what if that didn’t last?

Maia had a vague recollection of him from his mother’s funeral. A tall elf standing next to his wife — just one more pale stranger in a crowd of pale strangers. Now that they sat across the table from each other, Maia could see distinctly that Nemolis was his father’s son. They had the same eyes, hair, nose and cheekbones. No doubt the similarities ran deeper too. Maia knew what the emperor thought of him. Did Nemolis think the same?

Nemolis didn’t wear the imperial white, not yet. Yet he looked no less regal or intimidating for it. Maia forced his chin up, but avoided meeting Nemolis’ eyes. Instead, he followed the subtle sway of the lapis lazuli strands that hung off Nemolis’ ears and the tashen sticks set into his hair. There was more lapis lazuli on Nemolis’ hands; he wore heavy, jewelled rings on every finger save his left thumb.

_Those rings will leave nasty marks if he loses his temper._

“Maia, do you know what Thu-Evresar is?” Nemolis pressed and, to Maia’s horror, he realised that he had failed to give any sort of answer to Nemolis’ previous question.

“It’s one of the five principates,” Maia said quickly. “Its capital is Lohaiso, but Rosiro is the larger town, both in terms of physical size and population. Rosiro is closer to the Istandaartha, so more trade goes through there. Prince Asharinus is the ruler of Thu-Evresar and his residence is Andarnee, on the outskirts of Lohaiso, which is where we’re going.”

“Exactly right. Do you remember what the populations of Rosiro and Lohaiso are?”

Maia grimaced. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“That’s quite all right,” Nemolis replied and smiled warmly.

Maia longed to accept that as a genuine smile, because it did look like Nemolis meant it. But the children from the village near Edonomee had seemed nice initially too. Then they dumped rotting pig guts all over Maia. Even Setheris had been aghast over that incident. So aghast, in fact, that it was the next day before he recovered himself enough to remember to call Maia an idiot for going anywhere near those children in the first place.

“In any case, the numbers we have for Rosiro are inaccurate,” Nemolis went on. “Rosiro has become the industrial hub of eastern Thu-Evresar. A new factory opens every other week and people are constantly streaming in from the countryside in search of employment there. It’s difficult for city officials to keep track of people coming and going. That’s why our father wishes to conduct a new imperial census in the spring; we cannot know what the empire needs in order to prosper when we can’t so much as account for where its people are living.”

He went on in this manner for perhaps half an hour, apparently determined to tell Maia every fact there was to know about Thu-Evresar. From time to time, he would throw a question towards Maia, whether to see if Maia knew something or to verify that Maia had understood what Nemolis had told him. Some of what Nemolis talked about was easy to follow and some less so. Maia got utterly lost when Nemolis started listing the names of Prince Asharinus’ chief allies. But he tried to take it as much as his bewildered mind could cope with. He had the feeling that he was expected to.

When the pilot announced that the airship’s passengers should prepare themselves for the airship’s descent, Nemolis finally fell silent. Maia made a conscious effort to unclench his hands and summoned up his courage. “Nemolis? May I ask a question?”

“Of course you can. Go on,” Nemolis responded at once.

“Why did you come yourself?”

Nemolis considered Maia, then rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Because no airship could be spared to bring you to the Untheileneise Court and I suspected it would be a slow, unpleasant trip for you if you had to travel by horseback this late in the autumn.”

“Oh. That…that’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

“It’s not about —” He cut himself off as the pitch of the engine hum shifted, and leaned back. “Let’s discuss this later. We’re about to land.”

The wind currents were against them. The rumble and hiss of the airship’s protesting mechanics were audible even through the added insulation of the inner cabin. But the pilot and his crew knew their craft. After two uncomfortable jerks, the airship moored and the engines came to a standstill.

“Go ahead of me, Maia, and be careful. The stairs will be steep,” Nemolis said while the airship crew worked to release the latches that had secured the door in place.

Maia frowned. He was almost certain that him walking ahead of Nemolis would constitute a breach of etiquette. But before he could work up to raising the question, Nemolis rested his hand between Maia’s shoulders and gently nudged him forward. An armsman was the very first one out, then Maia, Nemolis, another armsman and the rest of Nemolis’ retinue — the secretary, a man-servant and a footman. Nemolis had been right. The spiralling wrought iron stairs winding around the Andarnee mooring mast were frightfully steep. Moreover, they were wet; it must have rained earlier. Maia did nearly slip once, but Nemolis threw out his hand to catch him before Maia made a fool of himself.

A welcoming party awaited under the covered porch of an ageing three-storey manor. Clerks and servants for the most part, but in the middle stood two richly dressed elves in their sixties with large sapphire beads in their hair. Nemolis had said that sapphires were the favoured gemstones of the ruling house of Thu-Evresar, so Maia surmised he was looking at Prince Asharinus and his wife.

“Welcome back to Andarnee, your imperial highness,” the prince called out. He and his retinue bent to give their respects. When they straightened up, Asharinus’ gaze swept over the people accompanying Nemolis and focused in on Maia, who now stood to Nemolis’ left and tried not to squirm.

“Thank you, Asharinus,” Nemolis replied. “We beg your pardon again that we have had to disrupt your plans at such short notice. We would like to introduce you to a late addition to our party — the Archduke Maia Drazhar.”

Asharinus bowed again, which his retinue echoed. “Well met, your grace. Andarnee welcomes you also.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Maia replied.

A silence fell and something unspoken passed between Asharinus, his wife and Nemolis. Maia waited. He had no idea what was happening and wasn’t prepared to risk Nemolis’ wrath by saying something that would embarrass either Nemolis or the emperor.

“Since we were unsure of exactly when to expect you, we deferred the planned formal dinner to a later night. In place of a formal event, we propose the four of us dine together in private tonight,” Asharinus’ wife, Princess Terenio, said.

“We think that is an excellent proposal,” Nemolis responded.

Maia’s chest tightened. _The four of us?_

It was exactly what Maia had feared. When the clock struck seven, the Drazhada armsmen escorted him and Nemolis to Prince Asharinus’ private apartments where a five-course dinner awaited. Although only four people were seated at the table, there was nothing informal about it. Asharinus and his wife wore no less jewellery than Nemolis did and the prince’s private dining room seemed constructed chiefly out of black marble, crystal and gold. Nemolis’ man-servant, Naela, had done his best, but Maia thought himself woefully under-dressed in his scratched-up boots and a jacket with sleeves that rode up halfway up his forearm.

Neither Asharinus nor Terenio commented on Maia’s appearance, but they didn’t attempt to hide their curiosity at Maia’s sudden presence at Nemolis’ side. They watched him closely even as they discussed the schedule for the next two days, delved into the logistics of the upcoming imperial census and skirted around the topic of the continuing bloodshed in the Evressai Steppes. Maia was thankful now for Nemolis’ lecture back on the airship. He hadn’t retained even half of that deluge of information, but what had stuck helped Maia follow the conversation between the adults.

He wasn’t prepared, however, for the moment when Princess Terenio set down her fork to indicate that she was finished with the fourth course and directed her attention at Maia. “Your grace, you spent the recent years in western Thu-Evresar, do we have that right? How close did you live to the Edonara?”

By the phrasing, Maia guessed she knew exactly where Maia had spent the past three years. But he was curious about her use of the term “Edonara”. Only the locals usually referred to the marshes by that name. “At the very edge of it,” he replied. He mulled it over and decided that the question on the tip of his tongue was too innocuous to get him into trouble. “Are you familiar with that part of Thu-Evresar, your highness?”

“We grew up in western Thu-Evresar ourselves. Our father enjoyed hunting in the Edonara, so we stayed in the area on many occasions in our youth.”

Nemolis spared Maia from having to respond by jumping in with a comment about the difficulty of bird hunting. That was enough to shift the conversation away from the Edonara and Maia, and towards a passionate discussion between Nemolis and Asharinus about which parts of the Ethuveraz had the best hunting grounds. It wasn’t until dessert that Asharinus seemed to remember once more that Maia was in the room.

“We have two grandchildren about your age, your grace,” he said. “If you’d like, we’ll arrange for an introduction to be made tomorrow. We fear it’d be a dull visit for you to have to spend the entire time in the company of grownups.”

Maia glanced over to Nemolis, who nodded, then responded. “We were about to suggest the same.”

“It’s very kind of you…” Maia started to add, but then couldn’t find a way to finish his sentence.

In any case, the conversation had moved on again, except now Asharinus and Terenio did most of the talking. Nemolis paid attention and added an occasional thought, but his expression grew distant and when he finished his glass of port, he waved away the servant who was about to refill it.

“We should take our leave. The evening grows late and it’s been a long day,” he said.

“We don’t doubt it was. Rest well, both of you,” Terenio responded and gave Maia a sympathetic look. They hadn’t asked Maia or Nemolis outright, but Maia’s clothing would have given Terenio and Asharinus a solid clue about what had happened.

Nemolis moved quickly and said nothing throughout the walk from Asharinus’ apartments to the guest apartments where Nemolis and Maia would be sleeping for the duration of their stay at Andarnee. Once past the threshold to the apartments and away from any prying eyes among Asharinus’ staff, Nemolis halted almost in mid-step. Maia froze, wondering if Nemolis was about to turn and unleash himself on Maia for some mistake that Maia hadn’t even realised he had made.

“Kirilen! Naela!” Nemolis called out. Once both his secretary and man-servant were before him, he continued at a conversational volume. “We have a hiccup here. We didn’t provision for staff to look after Maia when we prepared for this trip and we failed to think ahead while we were at Edonomee. Had we done so, we would’ve asked someone from Edonomee to accompany us. But, of course, it’s too late now. Nor do we want any of Asharinus staff about — they are certain to report back to him all they see here. Therefore, Naela and Kirilen, we must ask you to take on the task of looking after our brother until we return to court.”

Maia felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment; he didn’t want to make things difficult for anyone. It was not his place, however, to dispute Nemolis’ orders. He stood silent, chewing on the inside on his cheek while Naela and Kirilen dispassionately responded with a curt “yes, your highness” and bowed.

 _I_ _’ll just have to try to make as little extra work for them as I can._

“Thank you,” Nemolis said. “Naela, please prepare Maia for bed.”

Naela worked without hurrying, but didn’t linger either and didn’t engage in idle conversation, for which Maia was profoundly grateful. Within half an hour, he had Maia bathed and his hair washed with more care than Maia could have ever managed on his own. Maia shrugged on the warmer of the two nightshirts he owned and was about to start on his hair when Nemolis nudged the door open and stepped into Maia’s bedroom.

“We’ll take over from here, Naela. You may go prepare our chamber in the meantime.” he said.

“Yes, your highness,” Naela answered. A stiff bow later and he was out of the room, leaving Maia alone with his half-brother.

Nemolis had taken off the jewellery and the outer layers of his garments, leaving him only in trousers and a silk shirt with a narrow band of embroidery around the collar and the hems of his sleeves. Divested of the princely regalia, he should have made for a less intimidating figure, but Nemolis’ close resemblance to the emperor still unsettled Maia and he wondered again if Nemolis found him wanting.

“Come sit down by me, Maia. I’ll braid thy hair for sleep,” Nemolis said as he sat down on the edge of the four-poster bed.

 _Thy_ , not _your_. Unsure of what to make of the sudden change in the level of formality between them, Maia said nothing as he sat down and let Nemolis spread the damp hair across his back.

“Who helped thee with thy hair back at Edonomee?”

“Pelchara mostly. Or I’d do it. You don’t need to trouble yourself, I’ll manage it on my own. I’m already a lot of extra bother for you and your household.” Maia took the risk of twisting around to see Nemolis’ expression. While Nemolis didn’t look pleased, Maia couldn’t make out anything more than that.

“Thou art no trouble to have about, whether for me or my staff. It’s good that thou canst do it on thy own, but it’s nicer when someone else does it for thee, dost thou not think so? Moreover, I wanted to talk to thee.”

“Oh.”

Maia wanted to curl up, throw up his hands over his head and protect himself against whatever came next. Nemolis didn’t sound angry. But sometimes Setheris too seemed calm, only to turn within a split second and unleash his fury on anyone and everyone in the vicinity.

“Art thou nervous?” Nemolis asked.

“I, uh…”

Nemolis sighed as he reached for the haircare kit Naela had left sitting open on the bedside table and chose a soft-bristled brush. “I’ll be careful, I promise. But tell me if I hurt thee. While I fixed up Nazhira and Ciris’ hair often enough, neither of them have hair like thou hast.”

True to his word, he worked in slow, even strokes through Maia’s tangled curls, careful to avoid pulling. He was gentler than Maia himself would have been and the very opposite of Setheris on the rare occasion when Setheris had taken a brush to Maia’s hair. Impatient by nature and already irritated to be saddled with the task, Setheris would rip through any knot no matter how loudly Maia yelped or begged him to stop.

“How is that?”

Maia swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “You’re very gentle.”

“Let’s use thou between us, at least when we’re in private. It’s odd for brothers not to be on familiar terms, no matter the age difference.” Nemolis lifted a handful of Maia’s hair and draped those curls over his left shoulder. “Thou hast lovely hair. Only it might need some oil to keep the curls easier to manage; I’ll ask Naela to consider what’ll work best.”

Maia sucked in a breath. No one had said a nice thing about his hair since his mother died. No one had been so patient with his hair since her death either.

Nemolis caught the subtle shift of his body and stopped mid-way through a brush-stroke. “Did I pull too roughly?”

“No,” Maia replied. “It’s just… it’s goblin hair and it never stays in place. There’s nothing good about it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with goblin hair. And mine doesn’t do what it ought to either, not unless it’s bullied into it through half a dozen gels and mousses. Ask Naela to confirm an thou believest me not.” Nemolis chuckled and resumed his work. “Listen, Maia. I seem to have miscalculated and left thee in an awkward position.”

“I-I don’t understand?”

“In sooth, the agreement with our father was for me to go to Edonomee after I finished my trip to Andarnee, not before. I was concerned, however, that the servants at Edonomee would neglect their duties without an adult in residence to keep them in line, thus I decided to fetch thee first. In hindsight, I believe the Edonomee staff would’ve looked after thee to the best of their ability for a few more days. Instead, I took thee from them and threw thee into this state visit unprepared.”

Maia itched to turn around again, but Nemolis rested his hand on the small of Maia’s back to keep him still. He partitioned Maia’s hair again and brought a section over Maia’s right shoulder.

Setting the brush down onto the satin duvet cover, he went on. “Ordinarily, wert thou to accompany me on a trip like this, thou wouldst have had a flock of tutors, clerks and secretaries preparing thee for it for the past two months. The prince would’ve ordered for social occasions to be organised where thou wouldst have the chance to meet peers of thy own age within the principate and thou wouldst go with me to make public appearances in Lohaiso.

“But it’s too late for social events to be organised for thee and I don’t believe our father will appreciate thy appearance at any public ceremonies when thou art unprepared to perform such duties.”

“He’ll be furious, won’t he?” Maia asked. He couldn’t keep the tremble out of his voice.

“He’d be unhappy with me,” Nemolis replied and fell silent for a while as he took the sectioned off lengths of Maia’s hair between his fingers and braided it. He was less gentle now, but never pulled so badly that Maia’s scalp hurt. “On the other hand, we can’t avoid all engagements either. Keeping thee here in the apartments the entire time would send rumours spreading through Andarnee and then thought out the Elflands. Gossip columnists can be cruel in their creativity.”

“Which is why I have to meet Asharinus’ grandchildren tomorrow.”

“Precisely. I don’t know much about either of them, but they will have been warned to be polite and welcoming to thee. If thou enjoyest their company, I’ll ask Asharinus to arrange for further meetings while we are at Andarnee. If not, we’ll find an excuse to avoid them. How does this plan sound to thee, Maia?”

Maia clenched his jaw, then nodded. “I’ll do my best not to shame our father.”

Nemolis made a soft sound that might have been a sigh or merely Nemolis shifting his weight as he worked his fingers to the bottom of Maia’s hair. He reached over to pluck a short length of bronze-coloured silk from Naela’s kit and secured the ribbon around the end of the braid with swift, deft movements. “It’s not all as dire as that, Maia. An something does go wrong or thou sayest something in an imperfect manner, so be it. Asharinus and I will sort it out easily enough. State visits are a routine part of life for the imperial house and no visit goes by without something unexpected cropping up. Thou wilt see for thyself. A day will come when thou wilt carry out thy own visits on our father’s or on my behalf.”

“Me? I don’t… It’s…” Maia shook his head. His throat was a solid lump and pressure was building at the back of his eyes — he was on the verge of slipping into tears and he couldn’t understand why. If anything, Nemolis was being kinder and more patient than Maia would have ever expected him to be. “I’m sorry. I must be really tired.”

“Yes, I expect thou art. Now that your hair is taken care of, let’s get thee under the covers.” Nemolis smiled and tugged back the duvet to expose the mauve silk sheet beneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More baby Maia :)
> 
> Btw, is there a discord or anything similar for this fandom?


	4. Thu-Evresar II

Maia woke up late and to a silent household. Nemolis had risen before dawn, Naela explained once Maia crept out past the threshold of his bedroom. By now Nemolis was in Lohaiso, where he had engagements through to the early afternoon. He would then return to Andarnee, but only to attend more meetings and engagements. The two armsmen, the secretary and the footman were all with him in Lohaiso. Only Naela and Maia had stayed behind, and Nemolis had directed for Maia to be left to sleep as long as he wished to.

“Truly? Weren’t we to meet Prince Asharinus’ grandchildren today?” Maia asked.

“Not until later, your grace. You are to meet them in the Lower Hall at midday and have lunch with them. In the meantime, what would you like for breakfast?” Naela responded.

Maia had no opinion, save that breakfast seemed unnecessary considering that in about two hours he would be eating again. Nor was he hungry; he never had an appetite when he was nervous. Although he wanted to take to heart Nemolis’ words to him the previous night, Maia wasn’t sure if he should trust Nemolis to stand by what he said if something did go wrong because of Maia. And as much as the prospect of making friends excited, it was in equal measure terrifying. What if the twins turned out to be mean-spirited and had no interest in getting to know him?

But Naela wouldn’t allow Maia to skip breakfast and was satisfied only once Maia drank a cup of tea and swallowed two mulberry pancakes slathered in honey. That didn’t mean, however, that Naela was content to leave Maia be.

“On unpacking your luggage yesterday we noted that your wardrobe is limited and some items require replacement. We have discussed the matter with his highness and he directed us to engage the services of the Master of the Wardrobe to the Princess Terenio to assist. He and his assistants will be here shortly,” Naela declared, not unkindly, but with a tone that cautioned Maia against arguing.

Maia had no protest to mount in any case. His wardrobe was hardly appropriate for the seclusion of Edonomee. When he stood in the same room as Nemolis or Prince Asharinus, he looked little better than an urchin plucked straight off the street. He suspected his clothing would be even more of an eyesore once he reached the Untheileneise Court.

The tailors already had most of their work complete. Naela had given them some garment of Maia’s to use as a basis for measurements the previous night and they needed only to verify the fit and make minor adjustments when necessary. Maia quickly lost track of what garments he was told to try on and some items seemed entirely unnecessary. The nightshirts he had fit him fine, so he didn’t see why he needed three new ones. But he was profoundly grateful for the new pair of boots. His old ones had become cramped months ago and blistered his toes, but Setheris had judged that the boots weren’t sufficiently worn-out to merit replacing at least until the spring.

“Thank you, Naela,” Maia said as the Master of Wardrobe and his three apprentices departed.

“It is our job, your grace. Now. Let us get you ready for the afternoon,” Naela replied.

Like the previous night, Naela worked without hurry, but efficiently. When he was done Maia was in an entirely new set of clothing and his hair up in an elaborate knot, albeit without the adornment of decorative beads or clips. He then took an increasingly nervous Maia back down to the ground floor and to the rear of the manor, which was dominated by a vast, echoing atrium fully lined with windows along one side. Maia guessed this was the Lower Hall.

A boy and a girl, both of whom looked to be a year or two older than Maia, stood by the windows. Ostensibly, they seemed to be under the supervision of a stout, grey-haired woman in a servant’s livery. But the children were bickering among themselves and paid no attention to the woman despite her attempts to be heard. None of them noticed the new arrivals until Naela loudly cleared his throat.

“Good day,” the girl said, as she turned to face Naela and Maia. Her ears perked up with curiosity, which made for a sharp contrast to the indifferent expression on her elven-pale face and her half-shrug of a curtsy. “Thou wouldst be Archduke Maia, no?”

“I am,” Maia replied and thought he heard his voice tremble.

The girl grinned as if Maia had just given her the best news she had heard in months and made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the boy next to her. “I’m Emero. This is my brother Sibenar. We’re pleased to make thy acquaintance. The servants have prepared lunch for us out by the lake. Shall we go?”

Maia looked over to Naela; neither Nemolis nor Naela had said anything about any lake-side excursions. But Naela was no help. He stepped back and bowed. “We will leave you in the expert care of Prince Asharinus’ staff. Enjoy your afternoon, your grace.”

_Where_ _’re you going?_

Maia bit onto the inside of his cheek. If he whined and begged for Naela to stay, he would only give Emero and Sibenar another thing to mock him about.

He sighed. “Thank you, Naela.”

_Where exactly are Asharinus_ _’ staff?_

To Maia’s dismay, the woman who had been trying to get the twins into line when he and Naela arrived also bade them farewell at the terrace that bridged the manor and the gardens. Worse yet, no one arrived to replace her. Sibenar and Emero took Maia down a long winding path between fallow flower beds and leafless trees without any adult keeping an eye on them.

“Does your grandfather allow you out here on your own?” Maia asked.

“Of course he does?” Sibenar answered with a snicker, which Emero echoed. Although they were obviously fraternal twins and Emero was half an inch taller than her brother, the resemblance was striking in their facial expressions and body language. “It’s his own garden. Does thy fath… dost thy family not permit thee into the garden of thy house by thyself?”

Maia felt his face heat. Although his instinct was to keep quiet and not say anything for the rest of the afternoon, he sensed that silence would only be taken for confirmation, so he forced himself to explain. “My guardian never objected to me being in the garden on my own. It’s only that the garden where we lived isn’t nearly as large as this one and beyond it, there’s dangerous marshland where even grown men aren’t supposed to go on their own. I suppose that’s why us being out here by ourselves feels odd.”

“What’s so dangerous about marshland?” Emero asked. “Is the smell so pungent that it can make a man faint or? Oh, hold on. Is it the bugs? I’ve heard marshlands are full of odd, really big insects and most of them are venomous.”

Sibenar’s face lit up with excitement. “Hast thou a collection of insect specimens? Emero and I started one in the summer, but we haven’t added anything for a while now.”

“I’ve never tried to collect insects. Do you try to keep them alive or collect them dead?” Maia replied after a moment. Of all the ways he had imagined this afternoon going, a discussion about bug collections had never crossed his mind, so he was somewhat at a loss as to what to say. “There are many unpleasant insects about the marshes and they’ll leave nasty bites if one walks about with skin exposed, but I haven’t heard of any that’ll kill a person.”

“So it’s the smell then?”

“Uh, no.” Maia chuckled. “It’s the land itself. A patch of land may be solid one day and give way under one’s foot the next. And the water may be way deeper than it looks, so people can drown.”

“Sounds like a horrid way to go. I don’t think I’d want to live near a marsh,” Sibenar replied. He paused for a moment to kick a stone further down the gravel path. “Is that how thy guardian died then? It is thy guardian who’s dead, right? I mean, it can’t be the emperor or thy mother.”

“My guardian, yes. But it was a bad head injury he got in a fall.”

Sibenar twisted around to look at Maia. “Were there witnesses to the fall? Did thy guardian have many enemies?”

“No one was about; it happened in the middle of the night. Enemies? I’ve no clue,” Maia replied, growing more bewildered with each word and the increasing eagerness evident in Sibenar’s expression. Did Setheris have enemies? He was a relegated imperial subject, did that make the emperor his enemy? Setheris would have probably thought so. He had also routinely complained that the servants were conspiring against him. “Why askest thou about that?”

The path had taken them through the length of Andarnee’s formal garden and now ran through an opening in a six-foot-high, sandstone wall covered in climbing ivy. Beyond the wall, the neatly arranged flowerbeds ended and the land opened up to a meadow that overlooked an artificial lake. A narrow bridge linked the meadow to a small island in the centre of the lake where a pagoda was erected among the birds’ nests and yellowing rushes.

“That’s where we usually have picnics.” Emero motioned to the pagoda. “It’s much nicer in the summer, but we asked the servants to set up a brazier and to bring in blankets, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I’m sure — “

“Never mind the picnic,” Sibenar cut in before Maia could finish. “Listen, Maia. If he had enemies and he fell where no one saw it happen, was it really a fall? Maybe one of his enemies did it? Or maybe he had an illicit affair with the undercook and then it went wrong, so the undercook conspired to murder him.”

_Huh? Setheris was murdered?_

“Shut up, Sibenar,” Emero snapped. “Thou hast read too many silly novels of late. Maia’s guardian was a real person, not some ridiculous caricature of a character in your storybook. Maia doesn’t want to hear thy wild fancies about a person he’s mourning.”

Sibenar winced and his cheeks turned a violent shade of red. “Sorry, Maia. I spoke thoughtlessly.”

“It’s fine. No offence taken,” Maia muttered. Mostly, he was just glad not to have to explain that Edonomee had never employed an undercook. “Um, shall we go eat?”

The pagoda was a delight Maia would have never dreamt up himself. Andarnee staff had laid out platters of pastries, finger-food and sweets on the low table in the centre and set up cushions all around it. The windows were not glassed, which would have provided a good breeze in the summer no matter what direction the wind came from, but made for a nasty wind this late in the year. Luckily, the brazier more than made up for it.

Sibenar and Emero set upon the food and the bottles of weak cider they had been supplied with. At first Maia hesitated, but then decided he would be better off following the twins’ example. Soon, he again wished Naela hadn’t pressed breakfast on him. Everything looked delightful and without adults about, there was no one to admonish Maia about failing to abide by court etiquette or tell him off for eating too many sweets.

“I’m glad it’s only thee here this time,” Emero said once they had filled their stomachs such that they had to slow their pace and be more strategic about what pastry or candy they picked out. “Last time Prince Nemolis made a formal visit to Thu-Evresar, he brought his entire family with him. Which meant our grandfather rounded up our entire family in turn. It was awful; both of Prince Nemolis’ children screamed their heads off.”

Maia ripped off a piece of the poppy seed snail in his hand. By now, he was almost certain that the picnic by the lake was merely a picnic. The twins seemed more interested in consuming excessive quantities of pastries than plotting to humiliate him by throwing him into the lake, which gave him the confidence to ask what could be construed as a profoundly stupid question, “Prince Nemolis has three children, doesn’t he?”

“Not back then. It was a couple of years ago.”

“Ah, right,” Maia muttered, more than a little relieved.

“If I remember it correctly,” Emero went on, “Idra was five or six at the time. And Mirean barely a toddler. The princess wanted to keep her children with her and show them off, but Mirean just wanted to be with her nurse. And all Idra wanted was to sit on his father’s lap, which was hardly possible while Prince Nemolis had to greet all the other guests. I think that’s why this time they decided not to torment any of us with the adults. Or the adults with us perhaps. I don’t know which it is, but I like this better.”

“I think I do too,” Maia responded and slid a piece of the poppy seed snail into his mouth. “I had dinner with your grandparents and my half-brother last night. It wasn’t, I mean to say, your grandparents seem nice, but I would’ve rather been somewhere else.”

“Is the crown prince nice?” Sibenar asked, which earned him a scandalised look from his sister.

“I don’t know particularly him well. He’s much older, old enough to be my father really,” Maia said and felt his cheeks begin to burn again. He didn’t want to say anything more. If he did, he would have to explain what it was like among the Drazhada, about how Nemolis was the only one of his siblings whom Maia had ever met or about how Maia chiefly remembered his father’s face through the official portrait that hung in Edonomee’s reception room.

Emero was quick to switch conversation topics by asking, “Knowest thou how to fence?”

“I don’t,” Maia replied at once. Better they judge his ignorance than wonder about private family matters among the Drazhada. “Do the two of you?”

Sibenar snorted. “I get lessons twice a week. Emero pretends to fence with sticks and fire pokers. Thou art eleven, about to turn twelve, right? Thou shouldst start learning soon if thou wantest to be any good. Fencing is like dancing — the earlier one starts, the better.”

Maia nodded and forced a smile. “Are there many people to spar with here at Andarnee?”

“Hardly. Fencing lessons are for when we’re home. Our father prefers to live in Lohaiso. He’s always happy to pass Emero and me off to our grandfather of course; more time to spend with his mistress and her children while we’re not around. It’s pretty good here at Andarnee in the summer. We can go swimming in the river nearby or ride our horses and we always have friends over. It’s kind of boring in the autumn when the weather is like this. Even winter would be better ‘cause there’d be snow to muck around in.”

_A mistress and children? I don_ _’t recount Nemolis mentioning that._

Maia tried to work past his shock by finishing off the rest of his pastry, then asked, “Exactly how far is it to Lohaiso from here?”

“It’s creeping closer with passing every year. There’s a place actually on the grounds from where you can see the city. Wantest thou to see for thyself?”

“Sibenar, shut it.”

He twisted around to face his sister. “Why canst thou not shut up for a change? Thou hast been telling me what to do and say all day. Thinkst thou Maia won’t be able to climb up the ladder? That’s just plain rude, for a girl especially. Thou makest the climb up even in skirts.”

“What is this place?” Maia asked.

“An old monastery,” Sibenar said, still glaring at Emero. “Most of the complex was torn down and the stones re-purposed, but one building remains. Dost thou wish to go? It’s not far to walk.”

Maia glanced between Emero and Sibenar. He remembered well what had happened the last time he attempted to make friends. And while the conversation with Emero and Sibenar was stilted in places, it was going better than he had expected it would. On the other hand, Maia thought it had been going well the last time too.

_Sibenar and Emero know they_ _’ll be in trouble if something happens. They won’t take the risk by being malicious, surely?_

_At worst, I think I remember the path back to the manor. I_ _’ll run back there if I have to._

“All right, as long as it’s not far,” Maia said.

Emero rolled her eyes and set down her glass of cider. “Fine. But let’s take some of the food with us.”

For some reason incomprehensible to Maia, that send the twins bickering. But while Emero and Sibenar grumbled at each other, they also started sorting out the chaos the three of them had created on the table. They then pulled the stuffing out of a cushion and packed into it the sturdiest looking of the remnants of their lunch: candied apples, honeyed nuts and boiled candy. Emero carried the resulting sack, while Sibenar couriered the two remaining bottles of cider in his hands.

They left the meadow behind and headed for woodland that showed few signs of deliberate cultivation or pruning, which unsettled Maia. In an effort to distract himself, he picked up a thread he had left untouched earlier. “Do you know your father’s other children?”

“Thou meanest the illegitimate ones?” Emero replied and on Maia’s nod, went on, “It’s somewhat like it’s with thee and the crown prince. The oldest of our half-siblings is four. We live in neighbouring wings, but they’d rather stay with their nurse or their mother, and we’d rather keep our own company.”

Maia frowned. “They live in thy father’s house same as thee and Sibenar?”

“Our father’s mistress is a commoner,” Sibenar said dryly. “But father loves her and he’d marry her, save that if he does, grandfather would throw him and us out of the family. So she lives in the house, as our father’s wife in all but the formalities of it.”

It took Maia several seconds to recover himself. Nemolis had most certainly not mentioned this story in his lecture back on the airship; Maia was sure to have remembered a tale that incendiary. Emero picked up a pine cone off the ground and chucked it at Sibenar, then levelled her gaze at Maia.

“Sibenar talks too much,” she said and shrugged.

She was trying to appear casual, but Maia could tell the shrug had been forced and there was something off in her face. Uncertainty, he realised. She worried about his reaction. Maia supposed many of their peers would have only derision and mockery to offer here, but all he felt was a peculiar sense of relief. So he wasn’t the only one whose family situation was complicated.

Maia sighed and said, “It must be difficult to live in a household where the arrangements are so unusual.”

“At least our father keeps us at his house. Unlike thine.”

“Emero!” Sibenar snapped.

Despite her brother’s protest, Emero made no move to apologise. Maia said nothing in response either. What Emero said was perfectly true, though it hurt nevertheless. He didn’t want to make things worse for himself or Emero by continuing this line of conversation when the topic was evidently painful for both of them.

Neither Emero nor Sibenar was eager to pick up the conversation either, so they fell into silence until the trees around them gave way to grassland and an overgrown path that led to a lonely, two-storey house surrounded by weeds.

“Come on, thou wilt see in a minute,” Sibenar said and hurried towards the house.

It must have been abandoned for many years. The roof had half given in; nothing remained of the window-shutters or the door. Maia and the twins were able to walk right inside. Vegetation, both living and dead covered the floor and numerous birds had made nests within the walls. But it was also still possible to make out the purpose of some of the rooms and even some of the wooden furniture had not fully rotten away. Maia followed Sibenar and Emero up a dirty staircase to the second floor, then up a rickety wooden ladder up to the attic. The rungs were set far apart and splintering; Sibenar had to set down the cider he carried in order to help Maia and Emero make the climb.

With a broad smile spreading across his face, Sibenar beckoned Maia to follow him. “Come look out the window here, Maia.”

They trod around the worst of the debris scattered about – there were even more birds’ nests and dried leaves up here than below – and made their way over to the open hollow in the wall where a window had once been.

The house stood on the edge of a plateau and not far past it, the land gave way, dropping at least a hundred feet. Below was a wide valley through which ran two rivers and between them was what could only be the city of Lohaiso. Maia could make out few details, save the occasional spire or a column of smoke rising from a factory chimney. But it amazed him nevertheless. There were so many houses, more than Maia could ever count.

“And you live there?” he asked.

“Since we were three,” Emero replied. “An thou visitest again, we could show you all our favourite places in the city.”

“I’d like that.”

Sibenar shifted to stand next to Maia. “Since we’re up here now, we should stay a while. We can dig into our provisions while thou tallest stories about thy home and we’ll tell thee about Lohaiso. Oh, except, I left the cider downstairs.”

“I’ll fetch it,” Maia said, hoping that by the time he returned Emero and Sibenar would forget that they wanted to know about Edonomee.

He made his way back to the ladder, which seemed even steeper now that he was looking down at it, but he headed down nevertheless. He was already contemplating the best way to bring the two bottles up when the ladder groaned. Maia paused, unsure as to which part of the woodwork the sound had originated from. Looking around, nothing stuck out to him, so he shifted his hands and reached for the next rang down with his foot. The moment he rested his weight on the rang, it snapped under him.

He tumbled down onto the grimy flagstones beneath.


	5. Thu-Evresar III

“What happened?” Nemolis demanded from the first-floor landing. His booming voice echoed through the broad open space of the Lower Hall and although the staircase was carpeted, Nemolis’ boots were thunderous as he made his way down to the ground floor.

_I’ve done it now. This is going to be so bad._

A gardener had spotted Maia and Emero on their way back and helped them get Maia inside the manor. The man had stripped off his coat, draped it over Maia and urged Maia to curl up in the closest of the armchairs beside the Lower Hall’s broad windows. He had also pulled off Maia’s shoes, for which Maia had been thankful at the time — it was more comfortable with them off, but he regretted it now that Maia tried to get up on his feet again.

The gardener pressed his hand against Maia’s shoulder. “Stay put, your grace, lest you injure yourself further.”

Maia grimaced. He should be standing up. Emero and Sibenar were up on their feet, and it was the respectful thing to do. Considering what he had done, being respectful was the only thing he could do not to make things worse. But even the small movement he had managed before the gardener stopped him sent needs of searing pain through his arm and left his eyes watering.

“Does someone have an answer?” Nemolis said tersely, which sent Emero and Sibenar into a panicked cacophony of overlapping explanations. Maia caught only snatches: fell, forbidden, sorry, your highness, not Maia’s fault, he didn’t know. Nemolis probably had as much success in comprehending their words. He brought his hand up to gesture for them to halt the rambling and said, “Go find your grandfather and explain the story in full to him.”

“Yes, your highness,” Emero and Sibenar replied at once and scrambled to make themselves scarce, but Sibenar glanced back at Maia with sympathy before he slipped out of sight.

“We weren’t present when the injury happened, your highness, so we can’t offer an explanation,” the gardener said. “But we’ve summoned a doctor for the archduke. He should be here at any minute.” 

“Thank you for your assistance. Please return to your work; we’ll make use of the in-house staff should we require anything further,” Nemolis replied and accepted the man’s bow with a jerky nod of his head. When the man departed, Nemolis’ eyes were narrowed in on Maia. “All right, Maia, what’s happened?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting, I realise it must have been very important, I won’t do it again. And I’m sorry about the clothes. I’ll make up for the expense of what I ruined if you give me a bit of time. I-I…”

Maia could hear his voice become more high-pitched and thinner as he spoke, but it frightened him how Nemolis was offering no response, only listening with his expression cast into a deep frown. No doubt he wanted to hear Maia apologise in full and Maia was forgetting something obvious and important. He tried to figure it out, but he couldn’t think of it. The pain made it hard to concentrate and he just wanted to curl up and cry. Yet Nemolis was still waiting for him to finish.

Maia sucked in a breath. “I really am sorry.”

“I believe thee,” Nemolis responded at last. He crouched down by the armchair, bringing his eye-line down to match Maia’s. “The message I received only said that thou wert injured. May I see how severe it is? That’s the only thing I actually want to know right now.”

“Uh, right. Yes.”

He nudged the heavy material of the gardener’s coat aside and let Nemolis push back the sleeve of Maia’s jacket until the damage was visible.

Nemolis winced. “That’s a broken arm, no doubt about that. But the doctor will be able to help and once it’s in a cast, it’ll feel much better. What’s happened to thy knees though?”

Sibenar had tied a handkerchief around Maia’s right knee, which had been bleeding more profusely than his left. But he had torn through the trousers on both legs and both knees stung. Nemolis untied the handkerchief and after a single glance, he refolded it and retied it.

“I don’t think that’ll scar, but the grazes will need cleaning and bandaging,” Nemolis said and chuckled. “Ah. And thou hast a leaf in thy hair.”

Maia bit his lip as Nemolis plucked a dried out leaf from the remnants of the complicated knot Naela had constructed on the top of Maia’s head only a few hours ago. “I’ve made more work for you and your staff. I’m—”

“Art thou begging my forgiveness again? If so, don’t. As far as I could make it out, the only apology to be made here is from Emero and Sibenar to thee if they indeed took thee to some place they knew they weren’t permitted to go.”

“Then you’re not angry with me?”

“ _Thou_ art not angry. And no, I’m not. Accidents happen. I was a year younger than thou art when I fell off my horse and broke my leg. And Vedero fractured her wrist just last year while attempting to find a better vantage point for her studies. Thou wilt be fine by Winternight.”

After three and a half years of Setheris’ tyranny, Maia had become accustomed to being berated over everything and anything. He didn’t know what to say or do now that Nemolis had professed not to be angry. Nor for interrupting what had to be an important part of the state visit. Nor for ruining the clothes Maia had worn for all of a couple of hours — the jacket might be salvaged, but surely not the ripped up trousers. Maia clenched his eyes shut and forced himself to draw in slow, even breaths.

But he jerked in surprise as he felt Nemolis hand settle on the side of his hand and Nemolis began rubbing circles into Maia’s temple. “It’s all right to cry, Maia. Broken bones hurt a lot, I remember that well.”

“I’m not crying,” Maia muttered.

In lieu of a reply, Nemolis shifted his hand to the back of Maia’s head. He tugged out the pins Naela had used to set Maia’s hair into place and grumbled, “Where’s this doctor exactly?”

“We are here, your highness,” came a new voice from the public corridor that connected this hall to the rest of the manor’s ground-floor. “We beg your pardon for the wait. May we see what distresses his grace?”

“We’d be most grateful for your assistance,” Nemolis replied and moved aside to give the doctor space he needed to do his work.

“Did you hit your head when you fell, your grace? Or does your neck hurt at all?” the doctor asked. He was a stout man with heavy eyebrows that suggested that he had goblin heritage a few generations up the family tree.

“No, I landed on my arm and knees.”

“It might not feel like that now, but it was fortunate you landed in the manner you did rather than on your back,” the man replied as he took the fingers on Maia’s injured right hand into his own.

Despite his age — he looked to be about seventy — he worked with the energy and efficiency of a man in his prime. He was careful too to skirt around the injury site as much as he could, but he couldn’t avoid inflicting some pain, which left Maia hissing in protest and Nemolis sighing heavily.

“The bone has slipped out of place and much be repositioned. After that we will immobilise the limb so that it can heal,” the doctor concluded.

Against his better instincts, Maia glanced down to the unnatural lump an inch above his wrist, which seemed to be swelling further with every passing minute. “Will that hurt much? To set it into place?”

“There are draughts the doctor can give thee to help with the pain,” Nemolis said and nodded to the doctor. “Isn’t that so?”

“We will give you one for pain relief, your grace, and one to induce drowsiness. You won’t remember my manipulation of the bone back into its proper place,” the doctor said. “However, your highness, this is not the appropriate place for us to conduct this work. Nor would it be comfortable for his grace.”

“Not, not in the slightest. We’ll carry him up to his bedroom in our apartments.”

“I can walk up. It’s only one flight,” Maia piped in.

“Absolutely not.”

“No, it’s —”

“Why do I get the sense that one day thou wilt be the most hard-headed of us all?” Nemolis muttered. He straightened up then bent down again and scooped Maia out of the armchair. “What thy good arm around my neck. Yes, like that, good.”

Maia couldn’t remember the last time someone had carried him like that. He had become too heavy for his mother’s withering frame in the last years of her life. Beyond that, Maia wasn’t sure any man had ever picked him up and carried him in their arms. He doubted his father would have done so even when Maia was a newborn. Maia was really too old now to be carried and he could tell that it was no easy task for Nemolis, but it was warm in Nemolis’ embrace and at no point did it feel like Nemolis was about to drop him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Nemolis said as he set Maia down on the satin duvet of his bed and gently pried Maia’s arm from around his neck. “I’ll be here while the doctor works.”

Maia was surprised at himself, but it did help to know that Nemolis would be there.


	6. Thu-Evresar IV

“Did the dinner go well, your highness?” Kirilen asked. He was seated at a card table by the windows, but instead of playing cards, he had a stack of papers in front of him.

“Dinner was as expected — thoroughly forgettable,” Nemolis said and gestured his dismissal to Almar, the senior of his two armsmen.

Shena, the second armsman, would stay on duty through the morning. He positioned himself in a blank space by the door where he immediately seemed to blend into the silk wallpaper of the room.

“Is Maia in bed?”

“Naela put his grace to bed a good two hours ago. As we understood it from Naela’s words, bathing was somewhat of a challenge as the bandages must not get wet, but Naela worked out an arrangement,” Kirilen replied.

Nemolis rubbed his bleary eyes with the back of his thumb and reached up to pull out the two most irritating of the numerous tashen sticks Naela had planted into his hair. Although he was eager to fling the tashen sticks into the Istandaartha where the roiling currents would ensure they were never seen again, he contented himself with tossing them onto a side table instead.

“What about the rest of the evening?”

The Andarnee doctor had medicated Maia heavily; Nemolis wondered if the man had been a touch too liberal with his medicaments. Maia had drifted in and out through the afternoon and into the evening. He was still very drowsy even when Nemolis departed for dinner. Nemolis would have stayed and kept him company, but he could not insult Asharinus by failing to appear at a formal dinner hosted in his honour nor demand the festivities be deferred at the last moment for the second time.

“His grace was less drowsy as the evening went on, but still lacked energy. He picked up a book – some manner of ghost story – but gave up ten pages in. He was still subdued too. Having observed him this evening, we are inclined to agree with Naela’s supposition that this is his grace’s natural personality more than a reaction to the circumstances or the unfamiliar surrounds.”

“We gather it to be so.” Nemolis sunk onto a nearby settee and pulled out the rest of the tashen sticks. He exhaled deeply as his hair was released from its restraints and fell freely across his shoulders. Sometimes he envied the simplicity of a servant’s crop. “The Edonomee cook described him as quiet before ought else. He reminds us of Nemrian in some ways. She always hid behind our mother’s skirts and when our mother was no longer about, she clung either to us or to her maid for comfort. Even when both of us left childhood behind, a small court gathering could send her into nervous trembles. We believe she was relieved her marriage gave her cause to leave the court and live a quieter life.”

Kirilen ordered his papers into a neat stack. “Some people find it a kindness to have the opportunity to live out a quiet life with few people about them, but his grace is young still. He might yet outgrow it. For instance, this evening he ventured to ask us a few questions when he saw us doing the ledgers.”

“In sooth, we fear shyness and timidity are not the sum of this story. He’s shy around you, Naela and Asharinus. But he’s outright fearful of us. When we were braiding his hair yesterday, he was as tense as a hare with hawks circling overhead and it was little better this afternoon. We did manage to soothe his worry, but why did we have to do so? What evil thing does the child believe he’s done to merit our anger?”

Nemolis brought his hand up to rub his eyes again, but remembered at the last moment that he still wore his rings and risked scratching himself with the edges of the prongs that held the precious gems in place. He stripped the rings off one by one and set them down next to the tashen sticks. Naela grumbled when Nemolis removed his jewellery without Naela’s supervision, and he thoroughly detested it when Nemolis then left the jewellery scattered throughout the household.

“Do you suspect Osmer Nelar behaved inappropriately?” Shena asked quietly. He startled Nemolis nevertheless. All the armsmen in Nemolis employ were skilled at making themselves inconspicuous, but Shena had truly mastered the art.

“The cook said Maia had no reason to love Nelar, which could mean any manner of things.” Nemolis sighed. “Would that we had a chance to get to know Maia in better days. We would then have something solid to judge his behaviour against. Do you think we should ask him about Nelar?”

Kirilen cocked his head and considered the question. “Having seen a little of your interactions, we doubt his grace will give you a full, honest answer. Perhaps it’s better to wait until you and his grace are more familiar with each other.”

“It’s our dearest hope that in time he feels confident enough to tell us himself rather than being coaxed and prodded into giving an explanation. But what did he ask regarding your ledgers? Of all things for Maia to be curious about, that is not one we would’ve anticipated.”

Kirilen chuckled, nodding in agreement. He had worked in the treasury for several years before joining Nemolis staff. While, as far as Nemolis could tell, Kirilen considered fiddling with numbers something akin to a pleasant past-time, but he was quick to acknowledge that few people found the work as engaging as he did.

“Osmar Nelar taught his grace the rudiments of how to manage a household budget. His grace was curious to see how it’s done in a household larger than Edonomee,” Kirilen replied.

“His letter to our father gave an estimate of the number of weeks the servants could be paid before the household funds ran out; we hadn’t considered how he came by that figure. Management of household finances is a useful skill to have, but don’t you think it’s early for an eleven-year-old to be learning this? Or does Maia had a special interest in mathematics that Nelar was attempting to put to use?”

Kirilen flicked through his papers, pulled out one and brought it over for Nemolis to look at. “He’s quick enough to do basic problems in his head and is confident with long division, but we didn’t glean any particular interest or talent. Our impression was that Osmer Nelar wasn’t fond of mathematics himself and lacking a secretary, planned to foist that work on his grace as soon as he felt his grace was competent enough.”

Nemolis scanned the problems Kirilen had written out in his neat secretarial hand and Maia’s scrawled answers below. The answers he could make out were correct, but the messiness of the script was off-putting until Nemolis remembered that Maia had a broken arm and would have had to adjust his writing style to compensate.

“We are glad Nelar was able to impart some useful lessons,” Nemolis said. “However, it troubles us that he was the one providing tutelage. The question of personality aside, Nelar — a mere barrister by trade — wouldn’t have had the education to properly tutor an archduke. We were learning three foreign languages, as well as the basics of economics and political theory when we were Maia’s age. So which was it? Was Nelar arrogant enough to think he had the skill to teach Maia all he needs to know or did he decide that the money allotted for Maia’s tutelage would be better spent elsewhere?”

“Not on himself if it’s the latter. We took the opportunity to explore the lodge while you and his grace lunched. If anything, Nelar’s room was the most austere in the house. It may be that he found it difficult to hire a suitable tutor; the lodge’s isolation makes it an unattractive proposal for a tutor of a calibre such that an archduke requires. Or there might have been a more nefarious explanation. An it so please you, your highness, we will make enquiries when we return to court.”

“Please do so, Kirilen.” Nemolis glanced around, then asked. “Would one of you have the time? We don’t see a clock in here.”

Shena brought out his pocket watch. “Twenty minutes to midnight. You should retire to bed, your highness.”

“We should, we’ve been up since dawn.” With a groan, Nemolis brought himself to his feet. “Until the morning, Kirilen.”

Nemolis tossed and turned, always on the verge of slipping into the dreamlands and never quite managing to do so. Then something startled him into full consciousness. Suddenly as awake as if it were midday, Nemolis groaned. At this rate, he would get no rest at all and would sleepwalk through the engagements that awaited him in the morning.

But then he caught it. A high-pitched, strangled sort of sound that left Nemolis grimacing.

He sat up and caught the silhouette of Shena’s bulky form against the window.

“It’s coming from the archduke’s bedroom. Shall we check on him?” Shena asked.

That was another issue Nemolis had overlooked. Nemolis had two armsmen with him for this trip. While both of them were at Nemolis’ side throughout the day, they traded the night-shifts. Shena was the only armsman presently on duty and as Maia had no guard of his own, Shena could not check what was amiss in Maia’s bedroom without taking his eyes off Nemolis and thus reneging his sworn duty. After all, an intruder could easily create a commotion in Maia’s bedroom and when Shena went to investigate, use the opportunity to attack Nemolis.

“We’ll see for ourselves,” Nemolis declared.

The plush rugs of the guest apartments sunk under his bare feet and rendered his footfalls silent. Even Shena’s soldiers’ boots were only a fraction louder. Nemolis let Shena open the bedroom door on the off-chance an assassin was lurking within, but once Shena was satisfied, he stood aside and allowed Nemolis to step inside.

A curtain sat half-open and the light of the full moon outlined Maia’s form. The duvet was a tangled heap at the foot of the bed and Maia lay curled up with his legs drawn up to his chest. Even in the dim light, Nemolis could see Maia’s torso heave up and down with each hitched sob.

“Maia?” Nemolis said.

As he moved around to the side of the bed where Maia lay, he tried to puzzle out the situation. Was Maia’s arm bothering him more than he had let on? Or had there been some altercation earlier on and the fall had been no accident after all? Or was he homesick? As cold as the atmosphere of that house might have been, Edonomee had been Maia’s home for three years. Or did he simply miss his mother? There were some losses even time could not heal.

_No child should have so much to cry about._

But then Nemolis reconsidered his abrupt jerk into full alertness and as he rested his hand on Maia’s shoulder, he asked, “Maia, didst thou have a bad dream?”

Maia flinched violently; he must not have heard Nemolis enter the room. Although Nemolis would have thought it impossible, Maia drew his limbs closer to his chest and in a thin voice replied, “I’m fine. Did I wake thee? I’m fine, I’m sorr —”

“Hush, michen. No more unnecessary apologies.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gingerly slid his hands under Maia’s curled form. As he began to lift him, Maia wriggled out of his grasp.

“Thou needst not,” he muttered.

“I’m not leaving thee here like this. I’m thy big brother, Maia. I know I’ve been remiss in my duties towards thee for too long, but wouldst thou let me help thee now?”

Nemolis waited for an answer, but Maia produced no sound beyond miserable sniffles, so Nemolis made up his mind on his own. He moved quicker this time, too quick to give Maia a chance to slip out of his grasp again. As he deposited Maia on his lap, the boy’s hot, wet face pressed into the side of Nemolis’ neck, staining the collar of his nightshirt with tears.

He gave it a few moments to confirm that Maia wasn’t about to try to scramble away from him again, then said. “Little brothers shouldn’t be crying their hearts out in the middle of the night like this. I’d dearly like to know what has happened to upset thee so. Wouldst thou tell me?”

He received another sob in reply, which was more or less what Nemolis had expected. But he did not expect for Maia to then throw his uninjured arm around Nemolis’ shoulders and cling onto Nemolis as if his life depended on it. Tears came with a renewed fervour — nothing gentle, rather the loud gasps of an utterly distraught child. At a loss for words, Nemolis rubbed what he hoped were soothing circles into Maia’s back and waited.

There was no clock in the bedroom to tell him the time, but he thought that perhaps ten minutes had passed by the time Maia exhausted his tears. Still breathing in odd, uneven gulps, he rested his chin against the tear-soaked shirt-front of Nemolis’ nightshirt.

“Art thou able to say what’s wrong?” Nemolis asked.

The boy was silent for a long moment. Long enough for Nemolis to begin wondering if he would ever get an answer and to mull in dismay as to what he could do if that proved to be the case. But, eventually, Maia lifted his head. “I dreamt father sent me back to Edonomee. Only it was for good this time. And all the servants were gone and the house was rotting away. Only Setheris was there. But Setheris wasn’t…not like when he was alive.”

_Of course, it_ _’s Nelar. What did that man do to thee, Maia?_

“Meanst thou he was a ghost or?”

“Don’t know. It was like… um, Pelchara told me to keep away, but I didn’t listen. I snuck into Setheris’ bedroom and lifted the sheet. That’s what Setheris was like in the dream — pale, and stiff, and cold, except he was still moving and talking. And he spoke to me. He said that I’d be in his care at Edonomee forever. Even once I’m dead I’d be just the same as him, pale and stiff, and still unable to leave Edonomee.”

Nemolis swallowed the rising bile in his throat. He, a grown man, would wake up in cold sweats if he dreamt of something so unsettling. He slid his hand under Maia’s knees and tried to make both of them more comfortable by shifting his position to rest firmly against the headboard.

“That’s a frightful dream.” He reached out to stroke the tip of Maia’s right ear; Maia’s left was pressed against Nemolis’ chest. Idra hated when Nemolis touched with his ears, but it had always seemed to calm Vedero. With Maia, he could not tell. Maia was still as tense as a coiled spring and clung to him so tightly Nemolis could just about feel the beat of Maia’s heart. “But it’s only a dream, even if it did feel very real. Setheris Nelar is in Ulis’ care now and thou art not returning to Edonomee unless thou desirest to do so.”

“It’s up to our father to decide, isn’t it?”

“He won’t send thee back there. I’ll make sure of it,” Nemolis replied.

Maia wiped his face with his sleeve and fiddled with the tiny mother of pearl buttons on his nightshirt. “Does he listen to thee?”

On hearing the question, Nemolis found it an odd one, but then he considered what Maia had to judge their father by: the accounts of a relegated wife and whatever bitter tales Setheris Nelar might have imparted. “Our father has the most difficult job in the Ethuveraz, so he always has many heavy matters on his mind. He can be prickly and he does have a temper, but he will listen to reason if one makes a convincing argument. When it comes to thee and Edonomee, I’ll make sure he listens. It benefits no one to keep thee there.”

“I hope he does. I don’t want to go back there. Though I miss Aano and Kevo.”

Nemolis could not recount exactly who Aano or Kevo were, but the names did sound familiar from the few details he had managed to pry out of Maia at that stilted meal Maia and Nemolis shared before they departed Edonomee. He was fairly certain they were members of the Edonomee staff and it heartened him to hear that not everything about Edonomee had been a misery for Maia.

“Thou canst write to them once thou art settled in thy new home,” he suggested.

“I think I will. No, I definitely will. To everyone, even if only Pelchara can write back.”

Maia sighed and let himself go slack against Nemolis’ torso. Nemolis gently drew his fingers through Maia’s hair and used his thumb to massage the boy’s ear tip. It did seem like he found the gesture comforting. Nemolis could feel Maia’s body start to relax. And as much as Nemolis was eager to draw the conversation back to the topic of Setheris Nelar, he restrained himself. Maia was bound to become distressed again and he could not seek the satisfaction of having the answers he sought if that satisfaction came at the cost of making Maia discomforted again.

“How is thy arm? Does it ache?” Nemolis asked instead.

“Not really. Naela made sure I took the medication the doctor left for me.”

He didn’t fully trust Maia to be honest about the level of pain he was in, but if Naela had made Maia take the prescribed medication when he put Maia to bed, it was probably too early to give him another dose. “Thinkst thou that thou wilt be able to get back to sleep then?”

Maia grew stiffer in his arms. “I think so. But wouldst thou… never mind.”

“What is it? Is there something I can get thee?”

“Uh. Wouldst thou stay a little longer? Not ‘til morning. Of course not that. But a few minutes more?”

Nemolis tilted his head. “I don’t mind staying until thou art asleep.”

Thankfully, it only took a few minutes until Maia’s breathing smoothed and he was lost to the waking world. Nemolis tiptoed out of Maia’s bedroom and back to the cold blankets of his own bed. He changed into a dry nightshirt and then climbed into bed, but found little rest there. He continued to toss and turn through half-dreams full of twisted faces and cold, winding hallways.


	7. Thu-Evresar V

Maia sat on the floor, his legs crossed and his back pressed against the broad wooden railing at the foot of his bed. He exhaled to a slow, measured count like his mother had once taught him to do and inhaled again, just as slowly. He had been at this for some time now, but was still stuck on this basic first step. Despite his efforts to focus on and control his breath, his attention kept slipping to the way his left sleeve bunched at his elbow, or how the embroidered collar of his shirt left his skin itching or the distant sound of Naela going about his work in another room. Or if not that minute nonsense, his thoughts inexorably circled back to the events of the previous day and the night that followed.

It galled Maia how difficult it was to set aside the distractions of the present and to concentrate; he had last meditated only a few days ago. But then so much had happened since, it felt like a month had passed. There was a frustrating irony to it. He desperately needed to meditate, to make sense of what he felt and thought. Yet he couldn’t, precisely because the cacophony in his mind refused to still.

He allowed his body to tilt sideways until he slid down onto the floor. Stretching out his legs, he shuffled himself away from the bed in order to give himself space to sprawl out on his back. It sometimes helped to lie down when meditating.

“Your grace,” Naela said, his voice rising to towards a question by the last syllable. No doubt he hadn’t been expecting to find Maia sprawled out on the ground when he had a perfectly good bed to lounge on. “You have a visitor an it please you to receive him.”

Maia opened his eyes and hurriedly scrambled up while trying to avoid glancing at Naela’s expression. “We do? Who?”

“Sibenar Everenar.”

“Oh. We suppose we should find out why he’s here.”

Maia looked down at his clothes and straightened them as best as he could, but he caught Naela’s dissatisfied grunt over the state of his hair. He couldn’t be sure without a mirror, but he guessed he had ruined Naela’s work by rolling about on the floor.

“We are sorry, Naela. We’ll be more careful in the future,” Maia mumbled.

“We would appreciate it if you would, your grace. But nothing for it now. Let us see what Master Sibenar has to say. It would be best if you and your guest remain in the reception room where we can observe.”

“Yes, Naela.”

After the disaster of the previous day, he could understand why Naela would be hesitant to leave Maia and Sibenar unsupervised. But he wondered if this was Naela’s personal sentiment or orders Nemolis had given his staff while Maia was out of earshot. There wasn’t a chance to ask, however. They were at the threshold to the reception room already and Maia could see Sibenar seated in one of the armchairs, looking glum.

On seeing Maia, he shot up out of the chair and bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to see us, your grace. We are heartened to see you are in better health today and we are most sorry our carelessness has resulted in your injury. We most humbly beg your forgiveness for our ill-judgement.”

“It was an accident, Sibenar,” Maia replied once he regained enough of himself to be capable of speech. “It could’ve been thee that fell just as easily as me; thou art heavier than I am.”

Any doubts he had about Sibenar and Emero’s intentions vanished on their horrified reactions to his fall. Besides, had they been planning something malicious, the ladder was about the stupidest way to go about it. One rung had broken under the weight of Maia’s foot, another had snapped during his fall. That rendered the entire ladder unstable, which left the twins themselves stranded up in the attic. Sibenar had ended up jumping from halfway down the ladder and then had to drag over a dinner table to save his sister from having to make a similar jump.

“An accident, yes, but it needn’t have happened. Emero and I knew it was dangerous. We’ve been told over and over again not to go there because the building is rotting and falling apart. But we took thee there anyway.”

“Thou wilt not do it again and that’s enough for me,” Maia said. Feeling increasingly awkward at the stiff positioning between them, Maia took a seat on the settee opposite the fireplace and motioned for Sibenar to sit as well. “Was thy grandfather very angry with thee and Emero?”

“He was, but not nearly as angry as grandma was. Especially with Emero. She’s always harsher with her than with me.”

Sibenar reached for a stack of books that sat on the side table; Maia hadn’t noticed them until now. He lifted the cover of the one on top and pulled out an envelope.

“Grandma has Emero locked away with her for the day, studying the theoretics of flower arranging, needlepoint and who only knows what else. Since Emero couldn’t come in person, she wrote a letter to thee.”

Reluctantly, Maia accepted the envelope and unfolded the letter within. Emero had beautiful handwriting that left Maia envious. The wording itself was similar to Sibenar’s apology, in some places almost word for word. Maia set the letter down with a shake of his head. “Her apology was no more necessary than thine, wouldst thou tell her that?”

“Thou art too forgiving, Maia,” Sibenar replied and Maia thought he heard Naela’s huff of agreement from behind him. “Did Prince Nemolis punish thee? Thou wert certain he’d be fuming.”

“He didn’t. No.”

There must have been something in Maia’s tone or face, because Sibenar’s ears lifted in concern. It was the very opposite of course. Nemolis had been nothing except kind and patient since the minute they met. He didn’t hold it against Maia for interrupting his work or his sleep. He hadn’t laughed when Maia had told him about his ludicrous dream about Setheris. Nor when Maia, acting like a child of five rather than someone approaching their teen years, begged Nemolis to stay until Maia fell asleep.

Probably put off by Maia’s silence, Sibenar prodded, “What then?”

“It’s nothing bad,” Maia replied. “It’s just when I said that I didn’t know him well, I really did mean it. I only met him properly the other day. He looks so much like the emperor, I thought he’d be like him in other ways too. But he’s not, and I was unfair to try to draw conclusions before I came to know him. After all, I have as much of our father’s blood in me as Nemolis does and I don’t think I’m much like him at all, so why should Nemolis be a replica of our father?”

“Both father and grandfather say Prince Nemolis will be a good emperor when he’s crowned. I think I agree. He seems nice and smart. Although he was scary yesterday; I think he was very concerned about thee.”

_May I see how severe it is? That_ _’s the only thing I actually want to know right now._

_I_ _’m thy big brother, Maia. Wouldst thou let me help thee?_

Maia smiled. “I think he was.”

“Well, I’m glad thou wert not punished, because thou deservest it not. Grandfather said thou wilt have to avoid strenuous activity for a while because of thy arm and since it’s likely to rain all day today, I thought thou wouldst appreciate having something to read. Thou seemest the type to like reading.”

“I do. My thanks.” Maia realised now that the mysterious pile of books on the side table had a purpose and leaned over to see the titles.

Sibenar’s face lit up. “Good, because I do too. What manner of books dost thou like? I brought over a few of my favourites. And I brought over my book of short tales in Barizhin, which my tutor is making me read. My Barizhin isn’t all that good yet, so the tutor picked an easy book, but I thought it might entertain thee for a while anyway.”

Maia picked over the first three in the stack. They were all slightly worn-out hardbacks with catchy titles designed to pique a reader’s interest. Two adventure stories and a mystery novel, Maia guessed from the titles and the design of the covers. The fourth and last book was a third of the thickness of the others and had a title Maia could make no sense of.

“That was thoughtful of thee, but I don’t know Barizhin,” he said.

“But thy mother?”

Against his better instincts, Maia opened the Barizheise book and leafed through the pages, marvelling at the colourful illustrations at the start of each chapter. “She only ever taught us a handful of words.”

“Perhaps thy parents were concerned thou wouldst have an accent if thou learnest Barizhin alongside Ethuverazhin.” Sibenar said, looking thoughtful. “I hear that happens sometimes. But thou art older now. I can teach thee more if thou wantest to learn. My tutor says my pronunciation is very good.”

“Wouldst thou? It’d be good to know more Barizhin.”

Sibenar took to the task with fervour and to Maia’s surprise, he was an effective teacher. Maia couldn’t judge the quality of his pronunciation beyond the fact that when it came to words that Maia already knew, Sibenar pronounced them in the same manner Chenelo had. However, Sibenar was able to clearly explain various elements of Barizhin grammar, a topic Chenelo had never broached with Maia, and when it came to vocabulary, Sibenar was quick to point out related words in Ethuverazhin, as well as false friends.

But there was only so many concepts and words Maia could memorise in a single day, so eventually, their focus strayed to the rest of the books Sibenar had brought and then away from books altogether. When Nemolis concluded with the day’s engagements and returned to the apartments in order to change for dinner, he found Sibenar tutoring Maia in the rudiments of fencing footwork.


	8. Thu-Evresar VI

On the last morning of the state visit, the Tranquillity of Aveio carried Nemolis to Rosiro. This was the most politically sensitive portion of the trip. Nemolis had already met many of Rosiro’s influential merchants and industrialists during the various functions held in his honour over the previous days. Today, he wanted to speak with a different group of people. Thus, he headed out to the tenements where Rosiro’s factory workers lived. He walked the streets and toured the neighbourhood’s charity school — a mould-infested, cold shack where one overwhelmed priest was attempting to teach fifty children the rudiments of reading and writing.

Already sobered by what he saw at the school, Nemolis left for his last engagement of the morning — a meeting with the representatives of the Rosiro Unionist League. This organisation was only two years old and its legal standing was hotly debated, but it was part of a growing movement across the cities of the Ethuveraz.

Nemolis had been expecting a room full of old men with opaque complains, but few in attendance looked to be over thirty and there were as many women among them as men. All had serious concerns to raise and many had harrowing tales. Of all the representatives he spoke to, however, one caught Nemolis’ attention like no other — a goblin-dark boy of fourteen hobbling about with the aid of a crutch. He had started working at the age of ten and had his left foot crushed by a machine not six months later.

“Much work needs to be done regarding legislation regulating child labour in Ethuveraz,” Nemolis said.

The boy shook his head. “Don’t think, your highness, that we advocate for youth to be banned from working in factories. We have two siblings younger than ourselves to look after. If not for our labour, they would go without food and shelter.” 

Nemolis had no good response to that point, so he offered a polite, non-committal reply and moved onto the next person seeking Nemolis’ ear. Yet the boy’s curly hair and worn-out crutch lingered on Nemolis’ mind even once he was back aboard his airship and on the way back to Andarnee.

After half a day spent among the working poor of Thu-Evresar, returning to the sprawling wealth of Andarnee was akin to stepping into a different world. But Nemolis was almost glad for it. It was not that he regretted the trip to Rosiro, but the crowded tenements and the swelteringly hot factory floors were a foreign world to him and he had few solutions to offer the people he had met. The expectations and unspoken rules of places like Andarnee, on the other hand, were intimately familiar and there was a comfort to be found in that familiarity.

He was pleased too that Maia was becoming more at ease with the world he had been born into. Clouds had cleared overnight, making for a crisp, sunny day and Emero had been liberated from the punishments Princess Terenio had inflicted upon her. Maia, Sibenar and Emero were thus mucking about on the patio behind the manor, with Naela and one of Asharinus’ staff watching from a dozen paces away. Nemolis lingered for a minute and was amused to see that Sibenar continued in his role as Maia’s self-appointed fencing tutor. They had moved past the on guard position and the rudiments of movement forward and backward, and were now working on Maia’s lunge.

In the early evening, when all the formalities had been attended to, everything was packed and it was time to board the _Tranquillity of Aveio_ once more, Maia seemed genuinely saddened to be going. Nemolis was unsure about Emero, but he thought Sibenar too was disappointed to lose a newly acquired playmate. He thought he understood. He had been very close to Nemrian in childhood, but he also became eager for the company of other boys as he grew older. Rowdy company of other boys had seemed more exciting at the time.

“Quite the hiccup at the beginning, but it seems to have worked out between the children,” Asharinus whispered into Nemolis’ ear as they embraced in farewell. “You and the archduke will have to visit us again come the summer.”

“Bring Sibenar with you next time you head to the Untheileneise Court,” Nemolis muttered in reply. He spoke softly so the children would not hear, but when he glanced in their direction, he realised they were not paying attention anyway. Maia and Sibenar were hissing about something between them, oblivious to everything else around them. Nemolis cleared his throat. “Maia, we must go. We are expected at court by dinnertime.”

Idra would have whined and begged to stay another five minutes, but Maia only jerked and his body stiffened, the frivolity of seconds previous forgotten. Nemolis bit back a comment; nothing he wanted to say was worth saying within Asharinus’ earshot. He offered one last farewell to Asharinus and his family, then headed for the stairs of the Andarnee mooring mast.

“What’s the book thou hast there?” Nemolis enquired as he shepherded Maia towards the forward compartment of the airship’s cabin. He took his habitual seat — the middle of the three that faced the nose of the airship.

Maia chose to sit facing in the opposite direction, at first slipping into the middle seat, but then he decided that he preferred to curl up in the corner seat instead. He tilted his book so Nemolis could see the cover and the embossed letters of the book’s title _._ “Sibenar lent it to me. He said it’s one of his all-time favourites.”

“How art thou liking it?”

“I’m only on the first chapter. It’s too early to tell.”

Nemolis had a follow-up question to ask, but Kirilen drew his attention away. He had a stack of notes for Nemolis to review and memorise. While Nemolis did not have to submit a formal written report, his father would expect a detailed verbal debrief from him and he would not be pleased if Nemolis was fuzzy on facts and details. With Maia apparently content to occupy himself with his book, Nemolis too tried to focus on his reading.

Once he got to Kirilen’s notes on the working conditions in Rosiro’s factories, however, he just found himself dispirited. The situation was dire, but any attempt to strengthen regulations or raise wages would be met with stiff opposition from numerous parties within the Ethuverazheise government. Yet Nemolis could not forget that crippled boy — a boy who had been younger than Maia was when he had nearly died trying to make sure his family had enough to eat. Nemolis could easily find a justification to send the boy some money that would make his life and that of his siblings more comfortable. But how many other children out there were taking the same gambles with their lives because the alternative was starvation? How was Nemolis supposed to help them?

“No emperor can mend the world,” Varenechibel had once said to Nemolis, “that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t attempt to do what is within our power.”

Nemolis sighed and pushed Kirilen’s notes away. The problems of Rosiro’s working class were a chronic issue and well beyond his capability to solve on his own. There was one thing, however, he thought he could do right here and now.

“Maia,” he said. Maia’s eyes lifted from the book in his hands. “I have a question for thee. When we reach the Untheileneise Court, wouldst thou be more comfortable not wearing mourning black any longer? Thou needest not answer at once, but I would like to hear thy thoughts.”

Maia drew his brows sharply together and reached for the bookmark lying on the table. “Setheris was a relative and my guardian. Isn’t it obligatory?”

“He was no closer a relation to thee than he was to me and I wouldn’t be expected to acknowledge the death of a relegated cousin. No one would expect thee to do so either, not based on blood relations alone. Thy personal relationship to him as thy guardian would merit it, but…” Maia was peering at Nemolis with an odd look on his face, one that Nemolis could not parse out and that left Nemolis uneasy. “Dost thou genuinely mourn the man? I wasn’t well-acquainted with Setheris Nelar, but he struck me as a person poorly suited for the role he was assigned.”

“He was somewhat short-tempered.”

“Is that all?”

Maia dropped his gaze back to his book. “He was the guardian father chose.”

Nemolis was certain Maia had a great deal more to say regarding Nelar, but if he was not prepared to speak about it in more detail at the present, Nemolis was happy to defer the discussion to a different day. Perhaps when they were not floating miles above solid ground; the cabin could feel like a trap when one was desperate to avoid an uncomfortable situation and was unable to do so.

“Think on it, Maia. It does no one good to misrepresent what one feels. The gods know the truth, as does one’s own heart. And some consider false mourning an insult to those who mourn genuinely.”

Maia tilted his head and muttered, “Is that why…” Before Nemolis could ask what he meant, Maia let out a long breath. “Is it not then also an insult to the memory of those a person didn’t have the opportunity to mourn?”

“I suppose one could see it so.”

“Then thou art right. I’d rather not wear mourning clothes for Setheris anymore,” Maia declared. His words were firmer than anything Nemolis had yet heard from him. He almost sounded angry. Intrigued by this new side to his half-brother, Nemolis watched him as Maia pulled his book closer to him and resumed his reading. Or rather, he was pretending to read — he was staring at the page, but his eyes weren’t moving along the lines of text anymore.

_What did I miss in this?_

If Maia was no longer enjoying his book, Nemolis figured he might as well use the time they had until the airship moored at the court to clear another matter. One that had been on the back of his mind, on and off, for years now.

“I owe thee an apology,” Nemolis said. He stifled the urge to preface his words with explanations and caveats — sometimes it was better to get to the point. “It was remiss of me to have ignored thee for so many years. It was remiss of everyone in the family, but of me especially.”

Maia’s fingers curled around the corners of his book. “Why of thee especially?”

“Because elder siblings should look after the younger ones and I’m the eldest.” Nemolis leaned forward and rested his elbow on the table. He wished now he had encouraged Maia to sit next to him rather than across from him. Although the table between them was all of two feet wide, it felt like a gaping chasm. “In sooth, the age difference was foremost on my mind at first. Would a child have any interest in a brother who’s fully grown and starting a family of his own? I thought it unlikely.

“Then thy mother died and thou wert brought to the capital for the funeral. I planned to meet thee properly while thou wert at court. Only Idra was dreadfully ill at the time, unusually heavy spring melts had caused devastating flooding all along the Cethora, and father was in the foulest of moods. By the time I found five spare minutes, thou wert already gone with Nelar. I thought I’d give thee time to adjust to thy new situation before I wrote to thee. And then three years flashed back seemingly in the blink of an eye and I never did write.”

Maia took a few moments to reply. “It’s fine, Nemolis. I never wrote to thee either.”

“Thou art more forgiving than I deserve. I wish I could claim those years back and redo them. For I am glad to have met thee and wish I had known thee from the start.”

_Or at least from the day thou went into Nelar_ _’s care. Maybe I could’ve made sure thy time at Edonomee was not so bleak and lonely._

Nemolis had thought the apology would make him feel better, but Maia’s shy smile in response to his words only twisted something deep in his guts. A few words were not nearly enough to answer for Nemolis’ negligence, let alone for cumulative negligence of the House Drazhada.

“I’m also glad I had the chance to meet thee. I often wondered what my half-brothers were like. Wouldst thou mind if I write to thee after I go to my new guardian?”

“Of course I won’t mind, but thou wilt not need to write. Thou wilt not return to Edonomee, nor go to any place like it. I’ll advocate for thee to stay at the Untheileneise Court from now on.” Nemolis fully intended to negotiate for Maia to stay in his care, but he wanted to keep it a secret for now and surprise Maia when the arrangements were settled.

But Maia’s expression turned doubtful. “I don’t think father’ll want me to stay. He’s not fond of me. That was plain the last time I was brought to the court.”

“Did someone say something to thee regarding our father?” Nemolis asked. Foul gossip had circulated about Chenelo and Maia from the day Maia was born. Varenechibel’s attitude towards his youngest child did not help matters either. But surely no one would be daft or callous enough to repeat such talk within the boy’s earshot?

“No, I mean what father said when he saw me.”

Nemolis frowned and slid his elbows off the table, which prompted him to straighten his back into a posture more appropriate to a crown prince of the Ethuveraz. He’d had no idea Maia and his father ever met. It must have happened either before or after Chenelo’s funeral and remembering his father’s mood throughout much of that spring, Nemolis doubted the meeting had gone well. Although he almost did not want to know, he made himself ask the question. “What did he say to thee?”

“He…” the boy hesitated and then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t anything of importance.”

“If it bothers thee, it does matter. What did father say?”

Maia let out a disgruntled huff. “The damned whelp looks just like his mother.”

_All be damned. Father, what possessed thee to utter that to Maia_ _’s face?_

Maia was not paraphrasing or making things up, Nemolis was sure of it. The intonation he gave the words did not sound like Maia, but was intimately familiar — seeped with the sour anger Nemolis was accustomed to hearing from his father on Varenechibel’s worst days. For Maia to have replicated the tone so closely, the insult must have been seared into his memory.

“That’s all he had to say.” Maia rubbed his face and pressed his broken arm tightly against his chest. “I was handed over into Setheris’ care the next morning.”

“Gods be gracious,” Nemolis muttered, then attempted to put the myriad of half-formed thoughts in his mind into coherent words. “Father was very over-worked at the time and in the foulest of moods for a number of reasons, but nevertheless, he shouldn’t have said that to thee. For one, thou art a boy with merit enough of thy own, not anyone’s damned anything. And it’s not true that thou resemblest thy mother so closely. Thou hast the Drazhada build, the Drazhada eyes and the same chin our sister Nemrian had when she was thy age. Even were that not so, what evil would there be in that? Thy mother was a beautiful woman.”

“Yet he did say it. But perhaps it’s better that he was honest. This way I don’t need to wonder as to what I did to displease him,” Maia was attempting to pass it off as an unaffected remark, but his voice had tightened and his ears hung so low, the ear tips were parallel to the floor.

Nemolis wished he could draw his brother into an embrace again, as he had the other night, but with the table between them, he could not reach Maia.

“That’s not—”

“I’m glad at least…” Maia said, plastering a hollow facsimile of a smile on his face. “I’m glad to know that thou art not like our father. I thought thou wouldst be when we first met. Or like Setheris, which would’ve been little better.”

Nemolis sighed. Much was suddenly clear.

“I hope thou wilt soon have a chance to gain a better impression of thy father as well,” he said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! We are twelve hours into 2021 over in my timezone and it's not so bad so far. I hope everyone had a good time on NYE (whether you partied or went to bed early) and I hope you'll have much to celebrate by the time we come around to 31 Dec 2021.
> 
> And changing the subject entirely...  
> In case there's anyone out there who doesn't know about the The Goblin Emperor discord, the invite link is: https://discord.gg/KSbhVRvS  
> Also, I'm going to give a shout out to my writing group on discord - Book or Bust. Set your own goals, engage in friendly team banter, finish your writing projects. Link: https://discord.gg/VHtZ9uHu


	9. Untheileneise Court I

The sun had begun to set as the _Tranquillity of Aveio_ departed Andarnee. By the time the airship reached the Untheileneise Court, the last light of the day had long since faded. A biting wind tore at Maia and Nemolis as they descended the stairs of the mooring mast. Nemolis picked up his pace to get himself and his entourage undercover as quickly as possible.

Court staff had been awaiting Nemolis return. The moment they found refuge from the wind, they were swarmed by footmen and secretaries, all determined to extract information from Nemolis and Kirilen. Maia couldn’t make heads or tails of what they were after; too many voices spoke at once. And none of them seemed to even notice Maia.

“Have some manners, the lot of you,” Nemolis said sharply, his voice cutting through the din. His hand rested on Maia’s shoulder. “Kirilen, we’ll leave this in your capable hands. We and Maia will be in our apartment.”

It was dinner-time and the hallways were bursting with people – all pale, exquisitely dressed elves. On seeing Nemolis, they bowed or curtsied, then flattened themselves against the walls so that they wouldn’t impede their crown prince’s passage. Maia wasn’t sure how they managed it, but they made that scampering out of Nemolis’ path look graceful. But he also caught the less graceful double-takes as the residents of the court spotted Maia at Nemolis’ side. Their gaze first fell on his black clothing, then shifted to the darkness of his face and hair.

_Have they guessed who I am? Perhaps it’s better if they don’t. Surely father would prefer if I don’t draw attention to myself._

Here and there, when the courtiers thought Nemolis and Maia were out of earshot, Maia heard them muttering. He tried not to listen to their words; he was too afraid of what he would hear. Instead, he inched closer to Nemolis and couldn’t have been more grateful when Nemolis reached to take his hand.

Thankfully, the crowds thinned once Nemolis and Maia crossed some unannounced boundary; Maia registered the shift chiefly by the switch to a more elaborate style of chandeliers overhead. They turned around another two corners and came to face with two armsmen in Drazhada livery guarding a heavy set of oak doors. The armsmen saluted Nemolis and scrambled to open the doors.

Past the doors, another elf in Drazhada livery met them, this one much too old to be an armsman. Besides, he wasn’t wearing armour. His gaze immediately flicked to Maia, but his expression was impenetrable. He bowed deeply. “Welcome back, your highness. What are your orders?”

“Thank you. This is his grace, the Archduke Maia Drazhar. Please prepare a guest room for him and once Naela arrives, confirm with him that his grace has sufficient clothing in his wardrobe. His grace will not be wearing mourning colours after tonight.” Nemolis let go of Maia’s hand, but offered a reassuring smile in exchange. “Is our wife staying in tonight?”

“We will see to his grace’s lodging and wardrobe, your highness. As to the princess, no. She is dining elsewhere tonight and will be attending a theatre performance after that.”

“That might be for the best,” Nemolis mumbled and, more audibly, went on, “What of the children? Have they been well? Are they still awake?”

“They are well. Paricho is due to get them to bed shortly,” the servant — Maia guessed he was Nemolis’ house-steward — replied.

“Then the timing of our return is fortunate. Maia, let me introduce thee to my children before they are put to bed for the night.”

Maia had nothing to respond with. Obviously, he had known Nemolis had children and that they lived with their father, but he hadn’t given thought to the possibility that he might be meeting them while he was at the Untheileneise Court, let alone tonight. Not feeling remotely ready and possessing no ideas as to what he would say to them, Maia let himself be guided deeper into Nemolis’ family apartments.

He had thought the guest apartments at Andarnee were luxurious. Now they seemed quaint. Nemolis took Maia through three separate reception rooms — Maia couldn’t even fathom why Nemolis would need that many — then through a formal dining room with a table large enough to two dozen people and into a sitting room. The décor here was no less ostentatious, but the room itself was physically smaller than the preceding ones.

“Idra! Come here for a minute,” Nemolis called out.

But it was a girl who appeared. She wore only a nightshirt and a pair of slippers with ducks embroidered on them. She froze momentarily at the threshold of one of the doors that led off the sitting room, then launched into a sprint and threw herself at Nemolis’ legs. He was quick to pick her up and she curled her small hands around his neck.

She started babbling, her words too rapid and soft for Maia to parse them out, but she was soon interrupted by the arrival of a young maid with a baby in her arms and a boy of about eight.

“Papa, thou art back! Mama said not to expect thee tonight,” he said, the excitement in his tone impossible to miss. But then he noticed the stranger in their midst and frowned. “Hello. I’m Idra Drazhar. What’s your name?”

“I’m Maia,” was all he managed. He felt his cheeks flood with heat. This was worse than meeting Sibenar and Emero had been. With the twins there had been the spectre of humiliation, but they were only intended to be temporary playmates. Idra and his sisters were family. He needed to make a good impression. And what if they thought Maia was odd or straight-up disliked him?

Nemolis hadn’t missed Maia’s floundering and took on the burden of the introductions on himself. “Idra, Mirean. Maia is the youngest of my siblings, which makes him your half-uncle. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“It’s nice to meet thee.” Idra said, taking a step towards Maia. “I knew I had another uncle who lives away from the court, but I didn’t know thou wert so young. Am I to call thee Uncle Maia still?”

Maia looked helplessly to Nemolis, who replied, “I think just Maia will do. What thinkst thou?”

“Maia’s fine,” he mumbled.

Idra nodded. “Then it’s very nice to meet thee, Maia. What happened to thy arm?”

“Oh. Um, I fell and broke it.”

“Pretty hair!” Mirean laughed and babbled on further, but Maia caught only the word “like” and what he thought sounded like a person’s name until the very end, when Mirean slowed down and asked, “Can I braid?”

“Thou wilt only tangle it,” Idra cut in.

“Not tonight, Mirean,” Nemolis said as Mirean began to protest. “Thou shouldst be in bed already, meanwhile Maia and I are yet to have dinner. Idra, please show Maia around while I ensure the girls are put to bed.”

Mirean wasn’t in the least bit pleased by this plan and Maia felt a pang of sympathy for Nemolis, who was attempting to calm Mirean down while simultaneously trying to issue orders regarding dinner for himself and Maia. But the raucous Mirean created hurt Maia’s ears and he found himself glad when Idra beckoned Maia to follow him.

He took Maia next door, to a play room that looked to be Idra’s own small principate. The furniture here was plainer, painted in bright colours and sized for a child. Larger toys — plush animals and a half-built model of an airship — were stacked against the walls and a soft rug stretched across the room. Idra had turned the rug into a battlefield, with two armies of toy soldiers facing off against each other. One of the armies seemed to be allied with a horde of wooden ogres.

“So many toys here,” Maia muttered.

“I suppose I have more than some, but I know others who have more than I do,” Idra replied a touch defensively. “Oh, I should show thee my present from Aunt Vedero.”

Maia followed Idra’s path across the havoc on the floor and over to a dresser by the window. A glass tank sat atop the dresser, which was filled with several inches of sand. There was a shallow dish with water sunk into the sand and half a dozen rocks spread out across the tank. Maia leaned in, not quite understanding what he was looking at. He thought he was safe to assume that Idra wouldn’t have received an empty tank for his birthday nor would he be excited to show it off if that was the case.

Then he spotted movement beneath one of the rocks.

“Is that a spider?” he asked, shuffling back.

“No, Blackfoot is a scorpion,” Idra replied. In Maia’s opinion, he sounded entirely too fond of the creature. “He’s not venomous, don’t worry. Although it’s still supposed to hurt when they bite. But it’s fine, Blackfoot has never bitten me. He’s actually rather shy unless he’s eating. Wilt thou see?”

He didn’t wait for Maia to answer, but straight away pulled the lid off a box that sat by the tank and grabbed a pair of tongs. Maia shuffled even further back as Idra used the tongs to lift a cricket out of the box and deposit it into the tank.

“Is that what scorpions eat?”

“Aunt Vedero said that’s what her friend, who studies scorpions and spiders, recommended. A couple of crickets twice a week. And one must always make sure that the tank stays warm. That’ll be difficult through the winter, but I’ll make sure Blackfoot is all right.”

As Idra promised, the scorpion — a black-coloured creature about the size of Maia’s hand — scurried out from its hiding spot. After that, it didn’t take long for Blackfoot to pinch the cricket between its claws. Maia was unsure if he should be intrigued or disgusted. He had caught a lizard in the garden last summer and kept it in a box in his bedroom for a few days before it escaped. He’d had to catch and feed it flies, but somehow the lizard’s feeding habits hadn’t looked nearly as savage as Blackfoot’s did.

“Hast thou a pet?” Idra asked.

“No. My guardian didn’t like animals.”

“Mama doesn’t like Blackfoot either, but papa said I could keep him.”

Idra spun around so they were face to face and Maia realised for the first time that Idra too had those grey Drazhada eyes. He peered at Maia for a long moment, leaving Maia to wonder what Idra saw in Maia’s face. It was a strange thing really. Maia was Idra’s half-uncle, yet they were closer in age than Idra was to Mirean. And at the same time, they were strangers to each other.

Maia looked away. “Dost thou like having sisters?”

“They’re fine, but I hope that if mama has another child, it’ll be a boy. I must warn thee though, thou needest to keep Mirean away from thy hair. She says she’ll braid it, but she can’t manage it yet, so she only knots it. And thy hair is curly; I think that’ll be even harder to unknot afterwards.”

“Probably. It always knots as is.”

“Dost thou want to see my soldiers? I don’t have as many as Tazhis does, but mine are painted better.”

Idra was eager to explain the differences between the various types of soldiers in his collection and he was right, the paintwork was marvellous. One could even see the facial features on each figurine and the officers had their uniforms edged with silver and gold paint. There had to be over two-hundred figurines in all. Half of them had been a gift from the emperor and the rest from the Prince of Thu-Tethar.

Maia had some toy soldiers too; he had carefully placed them in the bag he had packed at Edonomee. He wasn’t sure where the toy soldiers had come from, but guessed that they were left-over from some earlier resident at Edonomee. There were twenty-three in all — the twenty-fourth had gotten lost two summers ago — and there wasn’t a lick of paint on any of them.

“Gracious, Idra,” Nemolis said, interrupting Idra’s detour to his set of wooden ogres, “one can barely see the floor. Clean up the mess in here and then thou canst join Maia and me in the dining room for a short while.”

“Yes, papa.”

Nemolis shook his head as Maia started to gather the toys too. “No, Maia, don’t help him. I doubt thou hast played a part in creating this. Instead, come with me. Thou mustest be famished; I know I am.”

Nemolis must have genuinely meant his words. He was so focused on cleaning his plate through the first two courses that he barely looked up, let alone took the time to make conversation. Maia tried to keep up, but while Nemolis’ kitchen master had done a good job with the short time he’d had to ready the meal, Maia struggled to find enjoyment in the spices and the heavy sauces. Worse, the food became downright unpalatable once Idra came out to join them and loudly complained that Maia had taken Idra’s seat at the dining table.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Maia started to push his chair back, but Nemolis motioned for him to stay put.

“Idra, that was rude.”

“Your highness,” Kirilen said as he stepped into the dining room. “There is a message from the Alcethmeret.”

With a sigh, Nemolis gestured for Idra to seat himself on the other side of the table where there were two vacant chairs, then accepted the letter Kirilen offered him. His expression darkened. “Our father has Thu-Evresar on his mind tonight; he wishes our debrief tomorrow morning. Please make sure all is in readiness. He is also directing for Maia to be sent up to the Alcethmeret. Would you please reply saying that a room for him has been readied here. Thank you, Kirilen.”

Kirilen bowed and withdrew while Nemolis reread the letter. Nemolis then turned his attention to Idra and queried how Idra had spent the recent days. Idra had a great deal to say, as well as some pointed complaints about his sisters and mother. Nemolis repeatedly attempted to include Maia, but the conversation kept straying to people and places unfamiliar to Maia. Having nothing to contribute and, at times, even uncertain as to what exactly Nemolis and Idra were talking about, Maia focused instead on forcing down his dinner, praying neither his face nor his stomach would betray him.

But he couldn’t help glancing up at Idra. Elf-white hair, elf-pale skin. His clothes probably cost as much money as it took to run the Edonomee household for a year and he had a room full of toys, most of them gifts from his family. Maia wasn’t sure he would have liked to receive a scorpion as a birthday present, but Vedero had never given Maia anything at all. He didn’t even know what his half-sister looked like. Meanwhile, Idra was growing up alongside his siblings. And above all, he had a father who cared for him.

_Would that I’d been Nemolis’ son, not his half-brother._

Cognisant and ashamed of his blatant envy, Maia reminded himself that it wasn’t Idra’s fault that he had all the things Maia lacked. He was just another boy and the same age Maia had been when Maia’s mother died. It didn’t help. Some feelings were beyond one’s control.

By the time dessert was served, Kirilen had returned, this time looking flustered. “The messenger from your father has come back and wishes to speak to you directly, your highness.”

“Truly?” Nemolis made a face. “Send him in.”

The messenger was a page only three or four years older than Maia. He was dressed fashionably and with an effort to show off his sky-blue eyes. He bowed very low before presenting another letter for Nemolis to read. “Your highness, his serenity bade us to remind you that his grace, the Archduke Maia, is the emperor’s son, not yours.”

Nemolis flung the letter onto the table after taking one glance at its contents and reached for his wine glass. The page ended up half-unfurled and Maia was able to make out a part of the message. _Nemolis, my patience with thee is at an end. Thou wilt not_ _…_ Maia set down his fork. The Alcethmeret was his father’s residence and how many people at the court would dare to address a crown prince in so familiar and demanding fashion? That message had to have been from the emperor’s own hand and he didn’t sound pleased.

“Papa?” Idra asked. “What’s toward?”

“It’s customary for an emperor’s children to reside in the Alcethmeret nursery until they reach their majority. As such, thy grandfather is not content with my plan for Maia to stay with us,” Nemolis explained. “Maia, where didst thou sleep the last time thou wert at court?”

Maia frowned, straining to recall old memories. “It was a bedroom with a small antechamber. I think the bedroom windows faced east. I don’t recount anything beyond that.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Alcethmeret nursery.”

“Your highness, we have orders to accompany his grace to the Alcethmeret,” the page said.

Nemolis set his wine glass down on the table with enough force to produce a loud thump, making Maia flinch. “His grace hasn’t finished his dinner. Nor have we. Once his grace and we are done with our meal, we shall take his grace to the Alcethmeret ourselves. Go and report our words to the emperor. If he’s not satisfied, he is welcome to come down here himself and we shall discuss the matter without intermediaries.”

“Yes, your highness.”

The page made himself scarce at once, but Nemolis wasn’t finished yet. Summoning Kirilen, he said, “The discussion we had the other night regarding Osmer Nelar’s finances. Look into it before you head to bed. We suspect the question may arise sooner than we anticipated.”

Both Idra and Maia remained very quiet even after Kirilen left. Nemolis leaned back in his chair and muttered something under his breath. The words were unintelligible to Maia, but it sounded crude. Probably some manner of profanity unbecoming for an aristocrat to utter and unsuitable for children’s ears. Whatever the words were, once uttered, Nemolis’ agitation seemed to fade and as he picked up his dessert fork, he looked almost like himself again.

“Is there something wrong with the Alcethmeret? Why dost thou not want me to stay there?” Maia asked.

Nemolis tilted his head and seemed to search for an answer. “Thy bed here would be more comfortable than over there and I’d rather thou wert nearby so that I can help shouldst thou need anything.”

The first part didn’t make sense to Maia. The Alcethmeret was the primary residence of the emperors of the Ethuveraz, so he couldn’t see why the Alcethmeret would be any less grand than Nemolis’ apartments. But the second part left Maia biting his lip. Exactly how far were Nemolis’ apartments from the Alcethmeret? Surely, a considerable distance. The Untheileneise Court was larger than many towns of the Ethuveraz. On the other hand, maybe it was better if he did stay in the Alcethmeret — that was supposedly the custom and he wouldn’t have to intrude on Nemolis’ family with his presence. He was still all too aware that he was sitting in Idra’s chair.

“If it’s what father wants,” Maia said quietly, “we should do as he asks. I don’t want him to be angry. With me or with thee. I’ll be fine in the Alcethmeret on my own.”

_Or rather, angrier than father is already._

“He has no cause to be angry with thee. But thou art right, you wilt be fine there overnight. Father’s household staff there will look after thee and I’ll visit thee first thing in the morning,” Nemolis replied and after a pause, added, “Idra, dost thou want some of my dessert?”


	10. Untheileneise Court II

“I couldn’t wait to get out of this place by the time I was Maia’s age.” Nazhira ran the back of his hand across the nursery’s steel grilles and waited for the resulting dull din to fade away.

“Father wishes for Maia to be kept away from the eyes of the court,” Nemolis replied. “I think that’ll only fuel rumour and speculation.”

“Even if he insists the kid stays within the Alcethmeret, why not one of the guest rooms? Those, at least, are kept up to date. The nursery still hasn’t been renovated.”

“It won’t be any time soon either. Thou hast heard how he’s been about reining in expenditures, hast thou not?” Nemolis replied.

He was unsure whether to be pleased or not at finding the nursery grilles open. On one hand, keeping Maia cooped up behind them was liable to make the boy feel like a prisoner. On the other hand, the only reason they would be open is if Maia had already had another visitor this morning and Nemolis did not know who that would be — the Alcethmeret staff would have used the service entrance instead.

Nemolis waited until he and Nazhira were past the grilles, where they had more privacy than the hallways could offer, and said, “I have much to say to father regarding Maia.”

Nazhira’s eyebrows quirked up. “Anything I ought to know?”

“It’s…” Nemolis considered the question. By all rights, this was a family matter and Nazhira should know what Nemolis had gleaned from Maia over the past days. But Nemolis doubted Maia would be comfortable with Nemolis sharing the information with someone Maia did not know. “I expect thou wilt come to learn the particulars in time. For now, just be gentle and patient. Maybe don’t raise thy voice either. I was abrupt with a page yesterday; I think Maia was discomforted by it.”

Nazhira’s jaw stiffened and there was a glint in his eyes that left Nemolis itching to say: _no, not like that, thou shouldst do the very opposite._ But there was no need for that. Nazhira’s temper flailed only because he had heard what Nemolis did not say and understood exactly. Moreover, he trusted Nazhira not to take out his anger on Maia.

“Good morning, your highness, your grace,” said a maid as they broached the threshold of the nursery sitting room. She spoke so quickly and softly that it took effort to understand her. “Your highness, we were about to send you a message. Archduke Maia has been asking after you.”

“Is all well? Where is he?” Nemolis asked.

The maid — short, grey-skinned and with her eyes fixed three inches above the floor — was fidgeting with her apron. She was young, no older than seventeen. Nemolis could not tell if she was so inexperienced that Nemolis and Nazhira’s presence daunted her, if her assigned task had proved too much for her, or if something else was amiss.

She pulled her hands away from the apron and clasped her hands together behind her. “In his bedroom, your highness. We… All was well when he awoke and he merely inquired as to when he should expect to see you today. Then Doctor Ushenar came. His grace has been out of sorts since the doctor left.”

“Didst thou ask Ushenar to check on Maia?’ Nazhira asked.

“I did not.” Nemolis conceded to himself that he should have. Maia had a broken arm and probably had not received a doctor’s attention on any regular basis throughout his years at Edonomee. He could not see Nelar paying to have a doctor come in unless Maia was so ill Nelar became concerned that Maia’s life was in danger. “Perhaps the house steward or one of the secretaries thought it prudent. What happened between Maia and Ushenar exactly?”

“We beg your forgiveness, your highness,” the maid replied, her head and ears dipping even lower. “We were not present. Doctor Ushenar told us to leave while he worked.”

“Then we must hear the story from Ushenar and Maia directly. Nazhira, wouldst thou wait out here for a minute? Likely, it’s nothing — Idra isn’t fond of Ushenar either — but let me speak to Maia and confirm.”

The maid directed Nemolis towards the bedroom where Nemrian and later Ciris had lived during their years in the nursery. No improvements had been made since. The furniture was worn, the room had the smell of a space that had not been aired properly in years and the bedding reeked of cedar — it must have been kept in deep stores and perfumed to keep away moths.

Maia was not making use of the bed, the settee, or the chair by the desk, but sat on the bare floor beneath the windowsill. There were no signs of tears, which was what Nemolis had feared, but Maia’s lips were pressed into a thin line and he glared at something visible only to him.

“Good morning,” Nemolis said. “Is something the matter? The maid said Doctor Ushenar visited thee.”

Maia lifted his head and his glare softened, but he did not sound in the least bit happy. “He did.”

“I take it thou likest the doctor not.”

Maia shrugged, then lifted himself to his feet. Nemolis now noticed that while Maia was fully dressed, he was barefoot, which was an odd oversight even for an inexperienced maid. Nemolis extended his hand and shifted forward; Maia looked to be in need of a hug. But Maia pressed his lips into an even thinner line and leaned against the windowsill.

“Child, thou hast thy maid worried and I am starting to worry too. What happened? Did Ushenar say something to thee?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” Maia sighed. “It wasn’t what he said. I don’t know. Just in general.”

That answer was not remotely helpful and Nemolis had to bite back his reflexive reaction to tell Maia so. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then pulled over Ciris’ old desk chair. “I don’t really understand still. Couldst thou start at the beginning and explain from there?”

“Ah.” Maia let out a frustrated huff. “Um, Mireno — she’s the new maid this morning — helped me with bathing and getting dressed. Then Doctor Ushenar came, saying father had ordered him to do so. I thought he came to check my arm and was glad for it, because it had been itching overnight. But then he sent Mireno away and told me to strip to my drawers. He barely looked at my arm, but just prodded and pinched my skin all over and kept asking questions. And he told me to do odd things, like asking me to touch my nose with my pinkie finger while balancing on one leg.”

“I’ll speak with Doctor Ushenar; he shouldn’t have made thee uncomfortable. If he comes again, tell him that his examination is to wait until I or someone like Naela can be in attendance,” Nemolis replied. He was still unsure he fully grasped the issue. Whenever Idra complained about Ushenar, he cited the doctor’s perpetually cold hands and the foul taste of prescribed medications as his chief complaints.

“Dost thou think he’ll come back?” Maia said. “I suppose he might. He kept writing down notes and saying one more thing, one more thing. It was like he was determined to find something wrong with me.”

_And the man was here on father_ _’s orders?_

_I believe I_ _’m beginning to understand._

Nemolis massaged his temples, working on one at a time. He was yet to face his father this morning, but the tension headache was already building. “There’s nothing wrong with thee, Maia, save that thou art lacking shoes and socks. Wouldst thou put some on, please? There’s someone I’d like to introduce to thee.”

Nemolis was the last to arrive. His father was seated in his customary seat at the head of the table. His chief secretary was to his left, while a vacant seat remained his father’s left — this seat was reserved for Nemolis. Kirilen and the three most senior assistants to the emperor’s chief secretary took up their places along the sides of the table. Nemolis hurried to take up his seat. By the clock, Nemolis was actually five minutes early, but his father glowered at him nevertheless.

“It seems to us,” Varenechibel began, “there is a question Prince Nemolis is most eager to see resolved. Or so we gather from his abrupt rush to the marshes of Western Thu-Evresar when he had important business to undertake at Andarnee. Let us expedite the matter then and have it resolved before we deal with the correspondence.” Varenechibel lifted his head to look past his secretaries and over to the nohecharis stationed by the doors. “We wish Ushenar in here for this discussion.”

Nemolis did not acknowledge his father’s rebuke. Doing so would only end in an argument. His father’s fury was not yet anywhere close to petering out. Nemolis, for his part, was equally angry and in no mood to beg forgiveness. Perhaps Nemolis’ last-minute change of plans had caused disruptions and some dissatisfied mutterings, but his days with Maia in Thu-Evresar had given him a chance to get to know his youngest brother and that was worth any headaches Nemolis’ impolitic behaviour caused.

As the doors closed behind Doctor Ushenar, Nemolis rested his forearms against the edge of the table and gave the doctor his full attention. This was the man’s seventh year of service as the chief doctor for the imperial family and like most senior staff, he had become accustomed to being in the presence of his sovereign long ago. Yet he seemed a touch flustered today; his ears were pressed against his skull and he held the folder in his hand more tightly than he had to. Nemolis wondered if the man had ended up as unhappy about his morning encounter with Maia as Maia had been.

“As per your request, serenity,” Ushenar said, “we conducted a thorough examination of Archduke Maia this morning. His grace appears to be at a satisfactory level of physical health, but more attention needs to be given to his diet. We would recommend a regular exercise regime to improve his muscle tone and to stimulate his appetite. We did also find a minor defect in the curvature of his spine, but it is not visible to the eye alone and should not handicap his grace in the future.”

“What of his mind? His mother’s family is too often prone to such maladies. Even his aunt is reputed to be mad.”

Ushenar adjusted his grip on his folder. “It’s difficult to diagnose any such condition in a single hour, serenity. One would need to observe his grace over a period of weeks, if not months. Overall, we would say he is overly timid, but he was cooperative. He made an effort to answer all our questions and was flustered when he could not.”

“What did he fail to answer? Is there an intellectual deficiency?” Varenechibel pressed while all five secretaries in the room were careful not to meet either their emperor’s or their crown prince’s eyes.

Nemolis himself turned to peer directly at this father. Varenechibel’s jewellery was all silver and white opal today, which had to have been picked to highlight the cold features of his face. Cold as a winter storm in the high-land passes — that’s what the courtiers whispered. But Nemolis knew his father and he could see the fire burning behind the frozen facade. This was not even about Nemolis disobeying orders in fetching Maia from Edonomee ahead of schedule. Varenechibel had spent the past twelve years making foul statements about his fourth wife and her son (it had begun while Maia was still in the womb). Now Varenechibel wanted those claims proved and documented, but Ushenar was failing at the task assigned to him.

_Mayhaps, by the day_ _’s end, Ushenar will be looking for a new employer._

“We…uh, we did not identify any specific intellectual deficiency, serenity. However, his education is not as broad as we would expect from a child shortly due to turn twelve. It might be that his grace is slow to pick up new information and his lessons must be conducted at a slower place.”

“From what we have gleaned, we would say that is an incorrect assumption,” Nemolis said quickly before his father could force further leading questions on Ushenar. He glanced to Kirilen. “We too noted that his general knowledge is not where we’d expect it to be. When we questioned Maia, he informed us that he never had a tutor. All he knows comes from lessons taught to him by the Empress Chenelo and Osmer Nelar, which is not ideal for a child who is fourth in line to the throne of the Ethuveraz. We pondered why this was so and asked Kirilen to investigate. It turned out that Nelar did not possess the funds to hire a tutor. In fact, he was not granted any allowance for his guardianship — not for tutors, not for clothes, not for food. Anything Maia received came from the meagre income Nelar’s relegated status afforded him.”

Nemolis waited for his father’s reaction. The imperial secretaries all looked aghast and even Ushenar’s jaw hung low, but Varenechibel sat silent, exuding all the emotion of a primordial glacier.

“Father? Does this not trouble you? Your child has been raised in near poverty.”

“He’s a child of a half-mad —”

“Maia’s upbringing is a family matter, father. Now that Doctor Ushenar has delivered his report, why don’t we continue this conversation in private?” Nemolis cut in before his father could say something even more callous than what he had already uttered.

“As you said yourself, he’s the fourth in line to the throne. That makes his existence a state matter, does it not? We will continue as we are and be quick about it. We have much else to get through today.

Nemolis grit his teeth. Never mind that he wanted to say certain things that the secretaries did not need to hear, he could also use a few minutes to recompose himself. Both he and Kirilen had assumed that the lack of an allowance was an administrative oversight. But Varenechibel had not looked at all surprised, let alone angry, upon learning about the inadequate provisions for Maia’s care. Had he already known? Or worse yet, had that been his order?

“An it so please you, father,” Nemolis said. It took all the court manners he possessed to keep the bite out of his words. “We would like to take Maia into our household. On first acquaintance with our half-brother, we too thought he was overly shy. Osmer Nelar, we have come to understand, was a harsh man and Maia feared him. Maia worried also that we would mistreat him in a similar manner. But he’s more comfortable with us now and has come to know some of our household staff already. We believe he will find it more comfortable to stay with our family rather than the Alcethmeret while he adjusts to life at court.” 

“The emperor’s children reside in the Alcethmeret; that’s how it has always been. Moreover, we do not wish him living at court.”

“Why?”

“Because we do not wish it. We need not offer any further explanation,” Varenechibel replied.

Nemolis heard the warning in the terse tone his father used to deliver his words, but chose to ignore it. “Is it because Maia dared to be born with a vague resemblance to his mother? Or did you finally start to feel a measure of guilt about the way you treated your fourth wife and you can’t bear to face her son?”

“Guard thy tongue, Nemolis. Or I’ll have it ripped out.” Varenechibel’s lips twisted into a scowl. “What does it matter to thee what I do with Chenelo’s half-breed? Thou hast three children of thy own to raise. And if three are not enough for thee, take it up with thy wife.”

Ushenar let out an odd sound from the base of his throat. “Respectfully, your highness, we would not recommend your household as a suitable place for Archduke Maia. It might seem a workable idea for his grace, but serenity is correct, you must consider your own children first and foremost. Your son most of all.”

_Congratulations, Ushenar, you have redeemed yourself in the eyes of your emperor. The job is secure for another day._

“Idra always wanted a brother. He’ll be glad to have Maia’s company.”

“He might be keen on the idea in theory, but he’s likely to be less fond of the reality. It is always disruptive when a child is added to a household, and far more so when the child is older. Consider, your highness, what an adjustment it would be for your son to realise that no longer is he the only boy in the household, but also not the oldest and subordinate in rank to this newcomer. After all, the line of succession puts Archduke Maia ahead of any of your sons, your highness.”

“We expect there to be difficulties and we are prepared to manage them as they arise,” Nemolis replied.

He was more or less lying through his teeth. He had been thinking at great length about how his wife would react to Maia’s presence and how he would navigate that, but he had not given thought to the possibility that conflict might arise between Maia and Idra. But now was not the time for those quibbles — that could be settled later.

Nemolis leaned forward so that he cut the secretaries and Ushenar out of the conversation as much as possible. “Father, you ask me why I make Maia’s welfare my concern,” he said. He was tempted to match his father’s “thou” and answer in kind, but that was certain to unleash the full brunt of Varenechibel’s temper on him and Nemolis was not masochistic enough to invite that thunderstorm upon himself. “I do only as you instructed me. Do you remember how you took me into your arms after Nazhira was born? You assured me that Nazhira’s arrival did not diminish your love for me and bade me to love him. As your firstborn, you said it was my duty to love and to look after all my younger siblings, whether we shared a mother or not. Maia might be half-goblin, but he’s no less my brother than Ciris or Nazhira.”

“That’s a fine sentiment, but Maia doesn’t need your interference.” Varenechibel’s tone was frigid, but he had moved away from the derisive “thou” and Nemolis considered that a positive sign. “Thou” from his father was reserved either for the most intimate of conversations or for tactical displays of condescension.

Nemolis leaned back in his chair. “No? What is your plan then?”

“Some suitable house will be found.”

“But why not the court? I ask in earnest. All your other children grew up at court and where will he be able to catch up on his education more quickly than here? It’ll be a mistake to send him off to another house in the country where he’ll see no one and no one will see him. Isolation and mistreatment can make a halfwit and a madman out of any child. And when he reaches his majority and comes to court, any deficiencies in his upbringing will be all the harder to overcome, which is sure to send the people talking.”

Varenechibel’s gaze swept over the secretaries and Doctor Ushenar, who were all very quiet but attentive to the conversation, and Nemolis guessed that his father now regretted rebuffing Nemolis’ suggestion that they conduct this conversation in a more private setting. “You assume we will permit him to come to the court once he’s an adult. We are under no obligation to do so.”

Nemolis’ heart skipped a beat. This could not be the plan. His father was not intending for Maia to rot away in obscurity his entire life, was he? The callousness of it galled him. He often witnessed his father’s heartlessness to those who displeased him, but those were adults, not children.

He forced a smile, but was certain there was no joy or warmth in it. “You should spend a week or two getting to know your youngest. Maia is a bright, well-mannered boy who only wants to please you. He could be an asset to the Drazhada, but you seem determined to make a liability of him instead.”

“Don’t be ludicrous. Our time is valuable and —”

“I will wear your crown one day,” Nemolis interjected. If his father was not going to be reasonable, Nemolis could answer in kind. “And I _will_ have Maia at my court. But what will be said of him? Will he be reputed as in ill-educated dullard who does not know how to behave in a room of decent people? Or will he have the skills needed to rise to the challenge of the station he had been born to?”

Varenechibel drew his head back and with a snort asked, “Are you already making plans for him?”

“He would be a great help to me as an emissary to Barizhan. Or he may well become an embarrassment to the Drazhada. Whether it’s the former or the latter is entirely dependent on your decisions now; any mistakes made in the present will be too late to undo once he’s an adult.”

The chief secretary began to say something, but Varenechibel brought his hand up to cut the man off before he finished his first word. The assistant secretaries dropped their heads, pretending to be occupied with their papers. Kirilen meanwhile was watching his master apprehensively.

“I would like to make myself clear on this, father.” Nemolis played with the gold and amethyst rings on his fingers and hoped his voice did not reveal any of the trepidation he felt. “Maia will be your legacy. If he does turn out to be an ill-educated dullard, I will make sure everyone knows who was responsible, even if I have to personally edit every history book in the Ethuveraz. So think it over carefully, because posterity will judge you.”


	11. Untheileneise Court III

It had felt awkward at first, as it always did when Maia had to interact with unfamiliar people, but Nazhira didn’t seem to mind Maia’s inability to make conversation without awkward pauses. He took on the burden of talking and designated himself as Maia’s tour guide for the day.

The first stop of the tour was the Alcethmeret itself. They avoided the main staircases and took the servants’ wooden stairs instead. These were narrow and seemingly endless as they wound around the outer rim of the tower. But Nazhira was right — the deep ache in Maia’s legs was worth it at the end, when Nazhira opened the small metal door to the viewing platform that wound around the base of the Alcethmeret’s dome.

Maia had grown up among the low hills of eastern Thu-Istandaar and the flat of the Edonara. He had never been so high up and he laughed in amazement as he looked down at the endless wings and courtyards of the Untheileneise court — the symmetries of the architectural design that would be impossible to spot from ground level were obvious up here. Beyond the court’s heavy walls was the untidy rim of the city of Cetho, and even further out, the countryside with its forests, fields and villages. When Maia walked over to the western side, he narrowed his eyes, trying to confirm to himself that he was seeing what he thought he was.

“Is that the Istandaartha out there at the horizon?”

Nazhira nodded. “It’s difficult to make out right now. We should return on a clearer day; thou wilt be able to see the river better then.”

Left to his own devices, Maia would have spent the next hour doing laps around the platform. The giant dome of the Alcethmeret was a marvel on its own — up close Maia could see how the dome had been constructed and the artistry of the stonework. And there were a hundred fascinating things below. But Nazhira refocused Maia’s attention on the Untheileneise Court.

“Let me point out a few of the main areas up here. That way when we get down below, thou wilt have a better understanding of the whole layout and where things are in relation to each other,” he said. “First and foremost, of course, must be the Untheilean itself.”

Maia was left pondering about whether Nazhira regularly showed people around the court, because he was very good at it. Once he pointed out the major landmarks from above, he took Maia back down the stairs and out of the Alcethmeret. Nazhira explained the layout of the main hallways and annexes, as well as the small features that helped the residents of the court to orient themselves. Sculptures of emperors, for instance, faced towards the Alcethmeret. Statues of military commanders and chancellors, in contrast, looked out to the walls of the court.

By the time the afternoon approached, they reached the Varedesa gallery on the upper floor of the court’s main library. It was a long room, furnished with desks for study rather than bookshelves and filled with portraits in gilded frames. All pale elves, of course, and most of them painted against dark backgrounds, which made them look ghostlike.

“Prince Valna over here had five mistresses and loved games. Having fathered at least one son with every single one of his mistresses, he proclaimed that he would make the women compete and the winner would have her son legally recognised as Valna’s heir. Unfortunately, things became a touch too competitive,” Nazhira said and tutted. “One of the women resorted to poison. But due to a miscommunication, the poison ended up in Prince Valna’s wine-goblet instead of the mistresses’ glasses.”

“That’s awful,” Maia said, peering up at Prince Valna’s ferret-like face. He scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Did the artist forget to paint Valna’s eyebrows?”

“Oh, no. It was fashionable back then to shave them off.”

As they made it further down the gallery, Maia realised that Nazhira was correct — most of the Drazhada from that generation were missing their eyebrows. Maia would have been able to suppress his snickers at the results if not for Nazhira’s commentary about each portrait they passed. He seemed to know the name of every person in these paintings and had a ridiculous story at the ready about each one. Maia got the sense that most of his Drazhada ancestors were eccentrics and almost certain to die in some ridiculous manner.

But even as he was nearly choking from laughing too hard, he couldn’t help noticing how many of the people in these portraits had the Drazhada fine frames, narrow chins and pale grey eyes. He was nearly dumbstruck upon realising that in some ways he resembled those portraits more closely than Nazhira did. Nazhira had a stockier built — inches shorter than Nemolis and broader at the shoulders. And his eyes were a bright malachite green.

_He must take after Empress Pazhiro. What does father think of his looks?_

“Art thou hungry?” Nazhira asked as they reached the other end of the gallery. Maia shook his head and Nazhira gave him a doubtful look, but said, “In that case, how about we go down to the yards and watch the Untheileneise guard drill? That’s always exciting.”

“All right,” Maia replied. He paused, feeling ridiculous at having to ask the question, but made himself say the words. “Nazhira, art thou a soldier too?”

While Nazhira wore the elaborate dress and jewellery appropriate to the court, his hair was up in a soldier’s knot and decorated with a single gold tashen stick. There was something in his walk too. Maia, never having interacted much with soldiers before, couldn’t point out precisely what it was, but Nazhira moved differently to Nemolis and Setheris.

“I am,” Nazhira replied, the cheerful expression of the previous hours morphing into a more serious look. “But not in the Untheileneise Guard. I’ve been out at the Anmur’thelean in the Evressai Steppes for the past two years. We shall see how this year plays out. Perhaps, father will have his wish and I’ll stay here at court, but I have my doubts.”

“Is he worried thou wilt be hurt?”

Nazhira took Maia down a back stair and into a service passageway. The servants bowed as he passed, but didn’t look at all surprised to catch the oldest of their archdukes avoiding the public hallways.

“Soldiering is a dangerous profession,” Nazhira said when there was no one within earshot. “But it’s also dangerous to hand a younger son too much influence over a realm’s martial forces. There have been mutters and by all rights, Nemolis should go to the Evressai Steppes for a season or two and prove his mettle. The Ethuverazheise soldiers will have more faith in him and the Evressai barbarians will already know to respect and fear him when he takes the throne. But Nemolis believes he can do more if he stays at court. Nor does he want to leave his family for that long.”

“That sounds complicated,” Maia replied. _Too many sons confuses the succession._ Setheris’ comment had hurt to hear, but Maia had thought he understood what was meant by it. Now he suspected he only grasped the shallowest levels of the calculations the Drazhara made in order to retain their hold over the Elflands.

“It isn’t. Nemolis will be emperor after our father. Contemplating anything else is treason.”

Nazhira didn’t return to his earlier jovial self until they reached the annex where the Untheileneise Guard were headquartered. There were several fenced off areas behind the building: one for horses, one was being used for group drills and two more that presently sat vacant.

Maia watched the group drills with wide eyes. At first, he had thought it was merely two teams battling for victory. When he looked more carefully, he understood that one team was defensive, trying to protect a man who was wholly unarmed. The other team, meanwhile, was set on trying to get their hands on that very same person.

“Are they training to protect the emperor in the event of an attack?” Maia asked. He had to raise his voice to make himself audible amid the soldiers’ hollers — a frenzied mix of commands, insults, team battle-cries and grunts of pain.

“The emperor or any person they are ordered to protect,” Nazhira replied and called over a stable-hand who was idling nearby. “Please duck into the guardsmen’s kitchen and ask if they can spare some pastries for ourselves and Archduke Maia. Feel free to keep one or two for yourself.”

Despite it being a mere training exercise, both sides took it with the utmost seriousness and neither was willing to give up. Eventually, however, the defending party lost the man they were protecting. The aggressors cheered wildly, then moved to help the injured among them. No one’s injuries looked remote life-threatening, but there was one soldier whose nose refused to stop bleeding. His weapons were taken off him and he was designated as the next target for capture. The others regrouped and started the exercise from the beginning.

“I don’t think I’m brave enough to be a soldier,” Maia muttered.

Nazhira smiled. “Few people are at first. Holding the line when thy life is in danger is something that needs to be taught. But what dost thou wish to do when thou art older?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would be good to become a maza, but I haven’t the talent.” He wished at once he hadn’t said that. Nazhira might now ask why he would want to learn the mazaise arts. Maia didn’t want to have to explain his daydreams about becoming his father’s nohecharis and winning the man’s affection that way. Those daydreams had seemed silly back at Edonomee, they felt even sillier now. Eager to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asked, “Is Ciris a soldier too?”

“Ciris alternates between living in the mustiest of university archives and hunting expeditions. I don’t know what’s worse: hearing about the stags he took down or about the crumbling scrolls he’s been picking over,” Nazhira said, but there was fondness in his voice rather than derision. “Thou shouldst not give up on the maza idea yet. It’s not unheard of for the talent to emerge at fourteen or even fifteen. That’s years away for thee yet.”

The stable-hand had returned with a basket of boat-shaped buns, saying that they were a delicacy from southern Thu-Istandaar. Maia picked out the smallest one from the half-a-dozen in the basket and tried it. The bun was stuffed with minced meat, egg and cabbage. The taste was much plainer than the heavily spiced meals Maia had been eating since departing Edonomee, but it tasted great nonetheless. In fact, it tasted familiar.

“I think we used to have these at Isvaroe sometimes,” he said. “Will I get to meet Ciris? Or our sisters?”

Nazhira ran his hand over his mouth to wipe away the pastry crumbs. “Nemrian is seldom at court. Vedero is usually about, but she left yesterday to visit a friend in the country and won’t be back for a few days. I’ll introduce her to thee when she returns. But Ciris is… He is conscious of father’s temper and is likely to keep his distance until he’s certain he will not be rebuked for approaching thee.”

“Does that mean thou wilt be in trouble for spending time with me? If that’s the case, thou shouldst not —”

“I won’t be.” Nazhira lowered his voice. “Ciris and our father have always had their difficulties, but it’s been particularly bad of late. That’s why Ciris is so jumpy. It’s nothing to do with thee.”

“Oh.”

“Do you like horse riding?” Nazhira said as the silence between them threatened to grow awkward.

Maia took a small bite of the bun and chewed, but he could only delay the answer so long. “I don’t know how to ride. There weren’t any horses at Edonomee or Isvaroe.”

“It is hard to learn to ride when there are no horses about,” Nazhira said. He took a step back and looked Maia up and down. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to put thee on a horse on thy own while thy arm is healing. Probably not even an thou wert a confident rider already. But how about this? I’ll have my horse saddled and thou canst ride with me. Wouldst thou like to give that a go?”

Maia set down his book with a despairing sigh. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t concentrate. The broken bone throbbed and the skin around the edge of the bandages was itching again. The throbbing was by no means painful, but he would take his prescribed medication before he went to sleep and that would dull the pain until the morning. He didn’t know what to do about the itching. It had kept him awake half the previous night, but if he complained about it to Mireno, she was bound to call for Doctor Ushenar.

He didn’t want the doctor near him again, that’s the one thing Maia was certain of. The memory of Ushenar’s fat fingers roughly pulling at Maia’s lips so he could better see Maia’s teeth remained far too fresh in his mind. Nor was Maia certain that the man would listen if Maia demanded he wait until Nemolis was in the room. Besides, Maia didn’t want to disrupt Nemolis. He had dined with Nemolis’ family earlier. Princess Shevean had scowled the entire time, while Nemolis simply looked exhausted.

A door slammed somewhere, then footsteps — the footfall was too heavy to be Mireno. For a moment Maia wondered if that was his father coming to see him and panicked, but then he remembered Nemolis’ off-hand remark that their father was attending a masquerade this evening.

“Maia? Art thou awake still?” Nazhira asked as he peered over the side of the half-open door to Maia’s bedroom. He must have redressed for dinner. He had swapped out the lapis lazuli for obsidian and his hair was now set into an elaborate hairstyle one would expect to see a nobleman wearing, but Maia could see nothing of his clothes beneath Nazhira’s heavy riding coat.

“I am,” Maia replied, scratching at his arm. “Mireno agreed I could read for half an hour.”

Nazhira grimaced as he stepped inside Maia’s bedroom and took stock. “I thought perhaps the bedroom would be better than the sitting room, but no. At least they gave thee my old desk, not Ciris’. He thought it amusing to gauge the tabletop with his pocketknife; that desk was destroyed by the time he was through with it.”

“It’s not so bad here. Most people live far more modestly,” Maia said firmly. He was growing tired of the commentary about the state of the nursery. Perhaps there were signs of wear on the furniture and scuff marks on the walls, and perhaps the bed linen was fraying a little. The bed linen was soft and warm. Ciris’ bed was twice the width Maia’s had been back at Edonomee and it didn’t squeak every time Maia shifted about.

“Nonetheless, I don’t think it’s pleasant for thee to be here on thy own. That’s why I brought thee a friend.”

Nazhira unbuttoned the top two buttons of his coat and reached for an inside pocket. When he drew out his hand Maia at first thought he was holding a ball of fur, but then the ball moved and a set of pointed ears became visible. It was a kitten.

Nazhira set him down on the bed. Maia’s heart drummed and he was sure he was smiling like a madman as he reached to stroke the kitten’s back. His fingers sank into the fur, which was even softer than it looked. The kitten’s scruff and back feet were white, but the rest of him was a mottle of ginger and black.

“He’s so lovely! And so small.”

“Thou canst take him into thy arms, only be careful thou dost not hold him too tight,” Nazhira said.

Maia gingerly tucked his fingers below the kitten’s belly and lifted him up. He held the kitten against his chest for a moment, but then thought it would be uncomfortable, so he set the kitten down on his knees. “Am I allowed to have a kitten here? My old guardian didn’t permit pets.”

“Father can hardly object to a cat when cats are the symbol of our house. Moreover, thy birthday is coming up, is it not? This is my early present to thee. And since no one chooses what gifts they receive, if father has complaints about by birthday gift, he’ll need to deliver his complaints to me, not to thee.”

“Thank you, Nazhira! Thank you. He’s the best present I’ve ever had.” Maia bent his head down, in part to look more closely at the kitten’s calico pattern, but also to make sure Nazhira wouldn’t see his watering eyes. Kevo had baked a tart last year; Setheris hadn’t acknowledged Maia’s birthday at all. “Does he have a name?”

“Not yet. His mother belongs to the stable-master; the man doesn’t believe in giving kittens names until they are settled in their permanent home. It’s up to thee to name him.”

“Oh. But I don’t know what his name should be.”

The kitten sniffed about, then started to struggle against Maia’s grip on him. Maia released him and watched the kitten make tentative steps along the quilted cover of the bed. The name was the least of it. This kitten, a creature so tiny he could fit into Maia’s hands, was Maia’s responsibility now.

“I don’t know anything about how to care for a cat,” Maia said, despair setting over him. “What will he eat? Won’t he miss his mother here on his own? And the rest of his litter? I don’t want him to be scared and lonely.”

Nazhira rested his hand on Maia’s knee. “He’s weaned off his mother’s milk, which means he’s ready to leave his mother’s side. The rest of his litter are either already settling into their new homes or will be in the next few days. It’s possible he’ll miss them for the first little while, but he has thee to keep him company just as thou hast him. And when it comes to food, water bowls and such, I’ve spoken with thy maid. She’ll see to it.”

“Oh. That’s good then. Thank you.”

“Take thy time with the name, Maia. Thou needest not name him tonight.” Nazhira said.

He strode over to the desk and pulled open a drawer. He lifted out an unused sheet of paper, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the kitten’s direction. The kitten immediately lost interest in sniffing the bed cover and jumped at the paper ball. Maia laughed as the kitten wrestled with it; he was so determined to defeat this sudden enemy that he flipped over and didn’t even seem to notice.

“Nazhira?” Maia said, trying to sound more serious even as he was still laughing at the kitten’s antics. “Can I ask thee a question?”

“Hmm. What is it?”

“Well, uh. Nemolis thinks he can persuade father to agree for me to stay at court. Dost thou think it likely?”

Nemolis had said little about his audience with their father earlier today, but Maia surmised it hadn’t gone well. He had already been dubious about his chances of remaining at court and he was even more dubious now. Nazhira’s suddenly solemn expression didn’t fill him with confidence either.

“As I heard it, the discussion became heated,” Nazhira said. “But then, that’s just how it is between father and Nemolis sometimes. Nemolis is the first-born son — a child that not only our father, but the entirety of the Ethuveraz, had awaited for well over a decade. Father tolerates more from Nemolis than he does from anyone else.”

“Then there is a chance?”

Nazhira scratched the kitten behind the ear and tossed the paper ball again. “I don’t want to make predictions; I don’t think that’s helpful. But, usually, it goes this way. They holler at each other for days or weeks, while the rest of us tip-toe around both of them lest we put out foot into it and become involved. Then, they came to some manner of agreement that leaves neither of them happy.”

“That doesn’t sound promising,” Maia replied. The kitten had flicked the ball onto the floor. Maia leaned down to retrieve it and flicked it up into the air. He chuckled as the kitten jumped after the ball and catch it between its front paws. “But at least I’ll have someone to keep me company from now on. Really, I can’t thank thee enough, Nazhira.”


	12. Untheileneise Court IV

Two days passed without Maia hearing a word about his fate. Although he tried not to worry about it, the topic was difficult to set aside. He wondered about which distant corners of the Ethuveraz Varenechibel could send him to. He wondered too what Nemolis had meant when he talked about Maia staying at court. Clearly, he hadn’t meant the Alcethmeret nursery. Maia briefly fantasised about being permitted to live with Nazhira, but then remembered that Nazhira was often absent on military duties.

Nazhira, for his part, was doing his best to distract Maia from obsessing about the future. He took Maia out beyond the walls of the Untheileneise Court and down to Cetho. Maia returned with a new hat, an armful of boiled candy and three books. The next day Nazhira again lifted Maia up on his horse and they spent half the day in the forested countryside east of Cetho.

And, of course, when Nazhira had something important to attend to and Maia had to return to the Alcethmaret, there was Bizhu to keep Maia company. Maia felt guilty at first to leave the little kitten behind when he went out with Nazhira or dined with Nemolis and his family. He felt equally guilty for the extra work the kitten created for Mireno. But he soon realised that Mireno was as enamoured with the kitten as Maia was. Nazhira also whispered in Maia’s ear that the kitten had created a stir among the Alcethmeret staff and there had been some surreptitious visits made to the nursery to see the Alcethmeret’s newest resident, which helped explain the rapidly growing collection of ribbons, pom-poms and toy mice Bizhu had to play with.

Even Idra begged to visit once he heard about Bizhu. Maia didn’t dare to refuse the request, but, remembering Idra’s bursting playroom, he was nervous about Idra’s reaction. Perhaps Idra would demand a kitten of his own, or worse yet, demand Maia give Bizhu to him. But Idra only diplomatically asked, “I’m glad thou hast a pet of thy own now. Thinkest thou I’ll be able to visit and play with Bizhu again?”. Maia’s opinion of his nephew markedly improved after those words.

Idra was helping Maia gather up Bizhu’s toys — the pom-poms and toy mice inevitably ended up under the furniture — when Nemolis strode in. He did a double-take upon seeing Idra in the nursery, but then said, “I’m very glad the two of you are spending time together. I’m afraid, however, I need to take thee with me, Maia. Father wants to speak with thee.”

“Oh.” Maia’s heart thumped. He grabbed Bizhu, who had been about to start climbing the curtains again and gave the kitten a good scratch behind the ears. “Wouldst thou look after him, Idra? Just until I return?”

“Of course,” Idra replied. Although he likely didn’t understand all of the particulars, he had picked up the change in Maia’s mood and grew equally sombre. “I hope thou art back soon though?”

“Many thanks.”

_It won_ _’t take long. The last time he didn’t have ten words to say to me._

Nemolis tried to reassure Maia while they walked up the long, spiralling staircases of the Alcethmeret. His words didn’t help. By the time they reached the great iron grilles that separated the Alcethmeret’s public rooms from those reserved for the emperor, Maia’s heart beat so fast he wondered if it would burst out of his chest, and his knees were growing weak. Thankfully, there were not too many stairs past that. Nemolis led Maia to a small reception room appointed in amber-coloured silk.

The roaring fireplace and the warm hues of the furnishings gave the room a pleasant, almost homely atmosphere. But Maia’s father ripped through the illusion. He sat by the fireplace, dressed in layers of green silk heavily embroidered with white and silver. The cold combination of colours left Maia thinking of April frosts, when the last cold snap of the season settled ice over freshly green fields.

“This is Maia, father,” Nemolis said as Maia bent himself in half.

“Leave us, Nemolis,” Varenechibel replied. Nemolis began to protest, but Varenechibel cut him off before he got the first two words out. “I’ve heard more than enough from thee already. Wait outside.”

Nemolis accepted defeat and turned to leave, but not before he bent down to mutter into Maia’s ear, “Be brave and don’t forget to breathe, michen. Thou wilt be fine.”

Maia didn’t feel fine, nor did he feel particularly brave. He had never counted himself as brave. And he could feel blood rushing away from his face as he took two steps toward his father.

“Hast thou anything to say? We are told thou art not a cretin,” Varenechibel said, his words as cold as his eyes.

“I…” Maia clenched his eyes shut. Had he known his father would want him to speak, he would have at least tried to prepare a speech. And he would have asked Nemolis what level of formality he was supposed to use with his father. Definitely not the second-person familiar, but beyond that? He forced his eyes back open and gulped in a breath. “We…uh, we thank you for agreeing to see us. We understand you do not wish us in your household and we understand why. But w-we beg you not to send us back to Edonomee or a remote place like it. We… We are sorry, serenity, words aren’t our strength.”

His father snorted. “No, they certainly aren’t.” 

“We are sorry,” Maia mumbled.

“Either speak up or come closer,” Varenechibel snapped. “We have no interest in straining our ears to hear thee.”

Maia took a few small steps toward the ornate armchair his father sat in and bit into his lip. He didn’t like being so close. He was within Varenechibel’s arms’ reach now. He needed to be vigilant for any movement directed at him, but he didn’t want to even look in his father’s direction. Every glance at his father’s face left Maia wanting to flee the Alcethmeret. But then perhaps he would be expected to accept any blow that came from his father without flinching away. In that case, perhaps it was better if Maia didn’t see it coming.

“Thou lookest afraid of us,” his father said. “Thinkst thou we will strike thee?”

“You’re the emperor, serenity. And our father also. You may do with us as you will.” Maia glanced to his father’s nohecharei, who silently watched the conversation from the corners of the room. “Or order your nohecharei to deal with us.”

“Did Nelar strike thee?”

“Um. Sometimes, serenity.”

Varenechibel’s ears drew upward, sending his numerous earrings clinging against each other. “He had no right to do that.”

“He believed he did. Who was there to tell him otherwise?” Maia muttered. He was coming dangerously close to talking back to his emperor, but this conversation was starting to feel like those breakfasts with Setheris where he had been drinking into the early hours of the morning. On those days, it was only a matter of time until Maia said the wrong thing and Setheris swung a fist in his direction. Faced with the inevitability, sometimes it simply felt easier to stop tiptoeing around and expedite the pain.

But, although his facial features contorted with fury, Varenechibel didn’t lift himself out of his seat nor ball up his fingers. He merely went on speaking, “We have an impasse here. We do not wish thee at court, yet the crown prince is demanding for thee to be permitted to live here. How dost thou propose we resolve this?”

Hopelessness set over Maia. He had asked himself the very same question repeatedly ever since he arrived at the Untheileneise Court and had yet to come to any satisfactory answer. He was afraid now that there was a particular answer his father wanted to hear: as their father and emperor, both Maia and Nemolis were obligated to obey Varenechibel’s wishes on all matters. But it felt like defeat to say that.

“Perhaps it’d be better if we give up our claims to the Drazhada titles and take up a different name? Earlier emperors used to do that with their younger sons, didn’t they? We could live as an ordinary person, making a living as a clerk or a courier. And you, serenity, won’t have to trouble yourselves with us anymore.”

“That was oft done when an emperor had too many sons,” Varenechibel replied. “But only after the boys were castrated.”

Maia let out a startled wince and something akin to a smirk flickered across his father’s face.

“Of course, it would be unlawful for us to order Doctor Ushenar to carry out such a procedure; this form of mutilation has been prohibited for two hundred years. Thou wilt have to decide for thyself whether thou art fortunate for it or not, for we cannot permit thee to abdicate thy titles and live as a commoner when there’s a chance thou wilt sire children. Doing so could incite future instability. Situations may emerge that will tempt thee, thy descendants or any common scum who claim to be descended from thee to rise and challenge the line of imperial succession.”

“Oh. We hadn’t considered that.”

This time his father definitely smirked. “No, thou didst not. Nonetheless, the conclusion is thus: thou wilt have to remain Drazhada and continue being an irksome nuisance.”

Maia clenched his hands together before remembering himself. Objectively, “an irksome nuisance” was a milder turn of phrase than “damned whelp”, yet somehow it stung just as viciously. It might well have hurt less if his father had just struck him. The bruises would fade in a week or two; Maia would remember himself as his father’s irksome nuisance for the rest of his life.

“If that’s the case, what do you intend to do with us?” Maia said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We shall not have thee at our court,” Varenechibel responded. “But we won’t live forever. After our passing, we are certain Nemolis will summon thee no matter what dark corner of the Ethuveraz we hide thee. All will see thee then and what they see will reflect on us. Thus, we cannot have a child of our blood walk about as an uneducated, ill-mannered nitwit. Thy new guardian and tutors will ensure thou livest up to the name Drazhar. Where there are opportunities…”

“Who —” Maia said and blushed so deeply that the colour change would be evident even on his dark complexion. But he had already committed the faux pas, so he figured he could not disgrace himself further. “Who is to be our guardian?”

“Arbelan Drazharan, who, I most fervently hope, will teach thee better manners than to interrupt an emperor. Hast thou heard the name before?”

Maia hadn’t thought it possible, but his cheeks burnt all the more. It took an effort to speak again and he was not sure he succeeded in keeping his voice from quivering. “She was your first wife, serenity.”

“She was. She never did give us a child, so we shall give her our spare instead. She lives in Cethoree, two days’ ride from Uvezho. You may make social visits to nearby estates and spend time in Uvezho. Thou mayest also visit thy half-siblings when they are away from court and if Arbelan is hospitable to visitors, thy half-siblings may visit thee.”

Maia didn’t know what to say. By the sound of it, Maia’s life in Cethoree would give him a chance to experience more of the world than Edonomee had. Tutors also sounded promising. Maia was sure to learn more from them than from Setheris attempts at lessons. But he knew nothing about Arbelan Drazharan beyond the fact she had been his father’s first wife. Since Nemolis, who was the son of Varenechibel’s second wife, was in his thirties, Maia guessed Arbelan would be around sixty by now. He imagined a kindly, round-faced woman who would delight to be a grandmotherly figure even to a child who wasn’t her blood relation. But, at the same time, he was keenly aware that this was only his wistful imagination at work.

“M-may we keep our kitten when we go to Cethoree?” Maia asked. There was no sense in asking his father what his first wife had been like. Even if he did take the time to share any details with Maia, his recollections of her were three decades out of date.

“What kitten?”

“Nazhira gave us a kitten as an early birthday present.”

Varenechibel cocked his head and sighed. “Of course he did. By all means, keep the kitten.” He turned to glance at the complicated mechanical clock in the corner of the room. “We will give our staff a week to settle the details. A tutor, financial allocations, other such minutiae. Be prepared to leave once the week is up.”

_Then it_ _’s done. He’s about to dismiss me._

Maia swallowed. “Thank you, serenity.”

Silence lingered a beat until Maia realised that his father wouldn’t waste the words to order him out of the room. Maia pulled his shoulders back and bowed with all the dignity he could manage despite the unmoving lump in his throat.

“Maia,” Varenechibel said when Maia was almost out the door. “A nuisance though thou art, thou art my progeny nonetheless. Thy mistreatment won’t be tolerated. Advise us shouldst thou have trouble.”

“Thank you,” Maia replied, nearly stumbling over the words despite their simplicity. Not quite knowing what else he should say or do, he bowed again and fled the room.


	13. Cethoree

“I think I don’t like airships,” Maia muttered. “If there’s an airship involved, it means something bad has happened.”

They were presently aboard the _Tranquillity of Aveio_ once again. Only this time Nemolis had eschewed his usual seat and climbed to sit next to Maia. Bizhu, meanwhile, lay curled up on Maia’s lap and despite ostensibly being asleep, purred lightly whenever Maia ran a hand over his back. Nemolis reached over and curled his index finger to scratch Bizhu’s chin. The purring deepened.

“Something bad might have happened, but the bad can also give birth to something good. I’m not glad for Setheris Nelar’s passing, but I’m glad his death gave us cause to meet and to get to know each other. And it was an airship that brought me to Edonomee,” Nemolis said.

“I’m glad also,” Maia replied. “I wish there’d…”

He didn’t trust himself to finish the sentence without succumbing to tears again. He had sobbed for an hour after his father had declared his decision and dismissed Maia from his sight, and again last night after Mireno had put him to bed. More tears wouldn’t help. Besides, it was unfair to Nemolis, who had tried his utmost best. Maia wasn’t supposed to know, but Nazhira had told him anyway — Nemolis and Varenechibel had quarrelled several more times over the past week. Nemolis was now forbidden to attend meetings of the Corazhas and not welcome in the Alcethmeret unless specifically summoned by his father.

Nemolis wrapped his arm around Maia’s shoulders and pulled Maia closer to him. As Maia rested his head against Nemolis’ shoulder, Nemolis said, “It won’t be like before. Thou wilt have a chance to see more of the world. I’ll visit and thou wilt visit us. I have obligations at the court through to Winternight, but Nazhira has plans to spend the two weeks following in Uvezho. I’ll join him, if only for a few days, and I have it in mind to take Vedero and Idra with me. Thou shouldst come too.”

“Winternight is not so far away now,” Maia said softly.

“Precisely.” Nemolis flicked the tip of Maia’s left ear and Maia couldn’t help his giggle. “The Drazhada manor in Uvezho is not particularly large, but it’ll accommodate the five of us. There are good hills for sledding near Uvezho too; the area gets plenty of snow throughout winter. But if the weather is too unpleasant to enjoy the outdoors, Uvezho has some wonderful museums.”

Nemolis went on from there, describing the town’s numerous museums, the Uvezho Opera House and the grand open-air ice rink set up in the town centre every winter. When he seemed to exhaust his tales of the wonders of Uvezho, he turned to his plans to visit Maia in Cethoree in the spring and the question of whether in the summer Maia would be more interested in visiting the highlands of the Cethora with Nazhira or southern Thu-Athamar with Nemolis and his wife.

Maia listened, all the while chewing on the inside of his lower lip and saying little. It felt nice to rest his head against Nemolis shoulder; he wanted to savour the experience while he could. Nemolis seemed to have countless plans for the years ahead. But, of course, all of this was merely an attempt to distract both Maia and Nemolis. There were words Nemolis wished to say and Maia was desperate to hear, but those were beyond Nemolis’ power to utter.

Arbelan Drazharan had been relegated two years before Nemolis was born, he didn’t know the woman any better than Maia did. The best he could offer was “while she lived at court and was married to our father, she was reputed to be a gregarious woman with a mild temperament.”

As far as Maia was concerned, that meant nothing. He had seen what relegation had done to Setheris. While Setheris had been brusque and plainly angry at having been burdened with Maia from the first day, his cruel sobriquets emerged only gradually. Nor did he begin to strike Maia until he took to drinking metheglin every night. Setheris had been relegated for all of three years. What did three decades of relegation do to a person?

“Does thou promise to read my letters when I write?” Maia asked. While he fervently held onto the memory of his father’s parting words, Maia also didn’t trust his father to listen should he try to reach out to him.

“Of course I will.”

“Always?”

“Yes, Maia. Always.” A shadow passed over Nemolis’ face as the noise emanating from the airship engines shifted in pitch. “By the sound of it, we are about to moor. Put Bizhu back in his carrier. The air currents this late in the year are sometimes a struggle for the pilots and the moorings are jerky. He’ll be safer in the carrier.”

“Yes, Nemolis.”

Bizhu hardly noticed the transfer from Maia’s knees to the soft woollen blanket that lined his carrier. But Maia missed the warmth of his little body across his thighs. He sat with his hands clasped, fighting the urging to clench his fingers together. He succeeded until the engines fell silent and the crew scrambled to prepare the airship for disembarkation.

“All will be well, michen,” Nemolis said. “Stand up for me and let’s see how thou lookest.”

Maia dragged himself off the seat and turned to face Nemolis. He had been supplied with another new set of clothing for today — black leather boots polished to a gleam, charcoal grey trousers and two layers of thick, crimson shirts over the top of which Maia wore a heavily brocaded burgundy coat that stretched down to his knees. One of the emperor’s edocharei had dedicated an hour to brushing and braiding Maia’s hair, which he decorated with golden ribbons and beads of red amber.

“They should’ve spared thee the beads and ribbons, and gave thee a hat instead,” Nemolis grumbled while he straightened the collar of Maia’s coat. “But thou art dressed like an emperor’s son, no denying that.”

A crewman halted at the doorway to the inner cabin and bowed. “Your highness, all is ready for you.”

“Then we should go,” Maia said and gingerly picked up Bizhu’s carrier. He wasn’t sure he could take any more waiting. Moreover, he was afraid he would give in to his desperate urge to dash to the pilot’s cabin and beg the pilot to turn the airship around.

Cethoree’s mooring mast was at the very far end of the estate’s grounds. The first thing Maia saw was the two-hundred-foot stretch of lawn lightly dusted with fresh snow. Beyond it was a two-storey manor built out of red brick and decorated with an excess of corbels and turrets. But much closer than the manor, however, three people stood waiting — two men in Drazhada livery and a woman in sensible, but undoubtedly expensive clothing.

“Welcome to Cethoree, your highness, your grace,” the woman said. She looked to be in her late fifties and tall for a woman, although not equal to Vedero’s height. “We are Arbelan Drazharan. We hope your journey has been a pleasant one.”

“Nemolis Drazhar. This is my brother Maia.” Nemolis set his hand down on Maia’s shoulder. It felt like a possessive gesture and Maia was glad for it. It reminded him that he was no longer a lone, unwanted child abandoned out by the marshes.

Arbelan slid to one knee with an agility Maia wouldn’t have expected from a noblewoman of her age and seemingly without regard for the stains the melting snow would leave across her skirts. Now that they were almost at the same eye level, the vivid blue of Arbelan’s eyes was unmissable.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Maia. And I’m sorry to have never had the chance to meet Empress Chenelo,” she said.

_Chenelo. Stress on the first syllable, not the second. Does she speak Barizhin?_

Maia was too startled to reply, but Arbelan didn’t seem to mind and went on, “I’m unsure what the proper word for the relationship between us would be. Step-mother might be the closest, but that doesn’t ring right to me. Would you call me Aunt Arbelan perhaps?”

“An it so please you, Aunt Arbelan,” Maia dutifully replied.

“It would.” Her gaze flickered to the carrier in Maia’s hand. “I believe I haven’t been introduced to everyone yet. Is that a cat you have there?”

“A kitten. His name is Bizhu. Father said I could keep him!”

Nemolis ran his hand up and down Maia’s shoulder — Maia gathered Nemolis wanted him to calm down — and added, “The kitten is an early birthday gift to Maia from our brother Nazhira.”

“That’s very thoughtful of the archduke,” Arbelan said. Maia couldn’t tell from her tone whether the words were sincere or if she was being sardonic. She climbed back to her feet. “Let’s head inside, this weather is pleasant for no one, and both kittens and growing boys need to eat. Of course, a crown prince might not go amiss with a meal either. Would you do me the honour of staying for lunch, your highness?”

“The honour would be mine,” Nemolis answered.

As they walked to the house, Arbelan spoke again. “The name — Bizhu. Isn’t that from a wondertale? I believe I recount it being the name of the weaver woman’s cat.”

“It is, yes.”

Maia braced for the rebuff. Setheris had detested most forms of literature. In his eyes, only academic texts and legal journals were worth reading. But wondertales were among Setheris’ most loathed types of books, right alongside pulp novels and newspaper serials. He would have had a great number of scathing words to utter about Maia’s childishness in naming his cat after a character from a wondertale.

“That’s an excellent name for a kitten. Although we’ll have to be vigilant about keeping him away from balls of yarn,” Arbelan replied with a chuckle.

Maia’s smile was shy, but it was genuine. _Perhaps this Aunt Arbelan won_ _’t be so terrible a guardian after all._


	14. Epilogue

By Maia’s pocket-watch, it was not yet five in the morning when the _Fortitude of Rosiro_ glided over the sleeping city of Cetho and reached the main mooring mast of the Untheileneise Court. Maia descended the steep staircase ahead of the Drazhada armsman accompanying him and glanced around, but there was little to see in the pre-dawn murk.

The courier, Mer Aisava, waited at a polite distance removed from Maia, on alert for either a dismissal or further orders. Just as well, because a long and busy day awaited.

Maia beckoned the courier over. “Please advise Prince Idra that we wish to speak with him and will be waiting for him at the Alcethmeret. After that, please notify the Lord Chancellor of our arrival and tell him that we wish to speak with him once we have concluded our dialogue with the Prince.”

The stiffness of these orders left a sour taste in Maia’s mouth. It would have been easier and felt more natural to simply go to the apartments where Nemolis’ family lived. But Maia was acutely aware of the hour and had no wish to disturb the household after the events of the previous day. Besides, the conversation Maia needed to have with Idra concerned the future of the Ethuveraz and such conversations belonged in the Alcethmeret.

Six years had passed since the last time an airship had brought Maia to court, yet despite the haziness of his memory, he found his way without having to ask for directions. There was hardly anyone to ask in any case — the long, cold hallways of the court lay silent. Maia walked quickly and Eishavar, one of the small number of guardsmen assigned to Cethoree, trailed after him like a shadow.

The Alcethmeret was a stark juxtaposition to those quiet hallways. The staff had clearly been ordered to expect their new sovereign and by their bleary eyes, Maia guessed they had worked through the night. Still, judging by the house steward’s displeased expression, not everything was yet to her satisfaction and she told him in a no-nonsense tone that he could make himself comfortable in the Rose Room while he waited for Idra. It was not a space Maia recognised nor did he consider the decor aesthetically pleasing, but it would suit his purposes.

“Would you like breakfast served, serenity?” the house steward asked. Echelo Eseran, Maia remembered belatedly, the name had sometimes come up in Nemolis and Vedero’s letters.

“No, thank you, it’s too early for breakfast,” Maia replied. _I have no stomach for food this morning in any case._ “But tea would be appreciated. Chamomile if at all possible.”

“Yes, serenity,” the house steward responded and curtsied deeply, but Maia caught the undertone of reproach in her words.

He supposed he might well have insulted her by suggesting that the kitchen of the Alcethmeret might not have something as basic as chamomile on hand. Or perhaps she simply disliked his face — many servants adopted the opinions of their masters and Maia knew full well whom Eseran had served until yesterday. Whatever the case, Maia let it go. This was not the day to dwell on such trivialities.

Once a young server arrived with a pot of tea, Maia perched himself on the wide windowsill of the window that overlooked the eastern wings of the court and watched the stars fade into the faint band of light that grew at the horizon.

“Prince Idra, serenity,” Eishavar announced and opened the door.

Idra was dressed in the customary l black of court mourning but the clothes seemed to sit somewhat askew on him and his hair frizzed around his temples. For the first time in the entirety of their acquaintance, Idra wore no adornment in his hair nor any jewellery, not so much as a simple hooped earring. On seeing Maia, his face crumpled. Maia abandoned his tea, crossed the room and drew Idra into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Idra.”

“I’m all right,” Idra muttered in reply, but made no move to escape Maia’s arms.

They stayed so for a long while, both knowing that one they stepped beyond the bounds of this room, they would be expected to maintain their composure. But as much as Maia wanted to give Idra the time to come to terms with it all, time was against them. He had already summoned Chavar — a mistake, he realised now. Unfortunately, it was too late to undo it.

“Idra,” he said, shifting back. “Chavar is on his way. I’ll ask him to prepare the abdication papers, which I expect won’t take long. I’ll then sign them in thy presence and —”

Idra pulled away, his red-rimmed, swollen eyes growing wide. “What? Why wouldst thou abdicate?”

“Thy knowest why.”

“Please don’t do this because thou thinkst thou owes my father something.”

Something. No, Maia owed everything to Nemolis. Varenechibel had spent the past six years grudgingly acknowledging Maia’s existence. He had never again permitted Maia at court, but he had at least deigned to provide Maia with a safe haven at Cethoree and once Maia reached his majority, an allowance of an appropriate size for an unmarried nobleman. If not for Nemolis dogged championing of Maia’s cause, Maia probably would have spent the recent years living in rags in some part of the Elflands that even horses could not reach.

“Thou wert Nemolis’ heir,” Maia said. “An thou worriest because thy government would be a regency until thy art of age, I think in current circumstances that’ll be manageable. Thou art fourteen — it’s only a few years. I will support thee, as will Chevar and thy mother.” He tilted his head. _It’ll be fine as long as we keep Chevar and Shevean focused on each other, not on Idra. Not an easy task, but it’ll have to be endured._ “Besides, what opposition can any detractors mount? Imel is no Drazhada and has only daughters besides.”

“We have cousins! Perhaps only distant ones along the male lines, but they are Drazhada nonetheless and any drop of royal blood will do when someone thinks the throne is there for the taking. Why wouldst thou destabilise the empire with a regency when thou art the emperor’s legitimate, full-grown son?”

“Father never wanted me near the throne and that is known to all. And even when one sets that aside, many won’t welcome an Ethuverazheise emperor with a goblin’s face. Putting a crown on my head more or less amounts to inciting intrigue and revolt.”

“Thou wilt have my support, Maia. From today to the day I die.”

Idra meant it — the earnestness of his face might as well have been carved out of marble. Maia’s chest constricted; Idra resembled his father so closely in moments like this. Unable to face Idra any longer, Maia turned away and paced the room.

“Thou wert raised to be emperor at least. I wasn’t.”

“Thou knowest plenty. Thou art as smart as Aunt Vedero and Uncle Ciris are. Were.” Idra cleared his throat. “Please, Maia. I don’t want to be emperor. I don’t say this out of grief or fear, although I am afraid of what could happen next. I’ve never wanted to be emperor. An I could, I’d become a stable-hand and never enter the Alcethmeret again.”

“Thinkst thou I ever dreamt of being emperor?” Maia snapped, then sighed. He had known Nemolis well enough to recognise that Nemolis too had been apprehensive about his expected ascendancy to emperor and for the first time in his life, Maia wondered if Varenechibel too had once had trepidations about accepting the crown of the Elflands. “A job as a scullery boy would suit me just fine.”

That brought a twitch from the corner of Idra’s mouth, but solved nothing. They were both being childish — what they wanted had nothing to do with the decision to be made. Personal desires did not belong in this conversation. Nor did fear. Nor grief, nor anger nor any other of the half-a-hundred confused emotions Maia flitted between when he thought of his father and half-brothers.

Maia remembered his abandoned teacup and picked it up, but the tea had cooled and become unpalatable. “At the end of the day, only one question matters: what would be best for the people of the Ethuveraz? The rule of a half-goblin, infamously unfavoured son of the late emperor? Or the regency government of the late emperor’s grandson?”

“To me, the answer is plain,” Idra replied. “What must I do to convince thee? Shall we tabulate the list of arguments in favour and against each scenario?”

_I don_ _’t know, Idra. I don’t know anything about how this should go. I shouldn’t even be here and an I could, I would exchange places with Nemolis in a heartbeat._

As much as Maia tried to be rational about this, he could not shake his grief at all who had been lost in the crash and all the possible futures that had died with them. He would never again feel Nemolis’ embrace, or hear Nezhira’s laugh, or groan at Ciris’ sly jokes. He supposed he should at least be grateful that he had six years to get to know his half-brothers. Six years was much better than nothing.

_Nemolis_ _’ kindness and persistence bought those six years._

_An Idra is adamant he doesn_ _’t want to be emperor, I can pay Nemolis kindness forward and not force the crown upon his child._

“Would that I had thy certainty, but so be it. I won’t abdicate,” Maia said. He wished he had something more to say, but the words would not come to him. He tried to summon a smile instead and failed at that also.

Idra, for his part, sucked in a breath. “Thank you! Truly, I can’t thank thee enough.”

“Don’t be too thankful, thou art still my heir,” Maia replied. He paused to consider what needed to be done next and added, “Wouldst thou do me a favour? Wait with me until Chavar arrives.”

Idra nodded and they settled into armchairs by the fireplace. Quiet fell between them and lingered for some minutes. Idra was accustomed to Maia’s quiet even on a normal day, but today of all days, both of them had much to ponder and much to grieve. Looking at Idra’s clothing and frizzing hair, Maia wondered if Idra had gone to bed at all or if, like Maia, he had been awake through the night. He wished he could tell Idra to leave, to go back to his family apartments and eke out what hours of sleep he could manage. But the business of governance would not wait that long.

“Was Naela aboard the airship too?” Maia asked.

Idra sighed. “He was, and the new secretary too. All of grandfather’s edocharei, nohecharei and secretaries. Nazhira and Ciris’s men too. Plus armsmen and the airship crew.”

“How can such a thing happen?”

To that question, Idra had no answer.

_I will pray and light candles for Naela. No, for all of them. It matters not whether I knew them or not._

Maia fidgeted with the buttons on the cuff of his shirt, then caught himself and brought his hands under control. These were not hands worthy of an emperor. He had yet to succeed at growing his nails to a length expected of a nobleman and his fingers were stained with splotches of blue ink. Nonetheless, amid the ink stains that bore the testaments of letters Maia had been writing the previous evening and would now never send, was his signet ring.

Maia stretched out his fingers. While Varenechibel had granted Maia the privilege of a personal seal when Maia turned sixteen, he had rejected the design Maia selected. The ring instead depicted a rather uninspired Drazhadeise cat up on its back legs. Well, his father was dead now and Maia was not obligated to live by the man’s whims any longer. He would make changes. The signet ring would be among the first.

“The lord chancellor, serenity!” Eishavar announced and Chavar strode in before Maia had the time to acknowledge the pronouncement.

Chavar was freshly groomed, but had the heavy eye bags of a man who had spent the night awake with his thoughts. He bowed to Maia — sharp, deep, yet indifferent. But his eyes lit up as he spotted Idra.

“Please have a seat,” Maia said and was amused to witness Chavar’s spark of hope wither. If Maia was the one taking charge now, it was sure to mean that Maia, not Idra, would take charge for all days hence.

“Our deepest condolences on your loss, serenity,” Chavar said while he took the seat Maia had motioned towards. Maia doubted the man was sincere, but Chavar made a tolerable effort of sounding like he meant his words.

“We extend our condolences to you in turn, lord chancellor,” Maia replied. “After working so closely with our father for many years, we are certain your grief at his sudden passing is as sharp and deep as it is for the Drazhada.”

Chavar was an experienced and a talented courtier, but Maia caught the flicker of surprise that crossed his face before he remembered himself enough to say, “Thank you, serenity. How may we serve you today?”

 _Thou art a person like any other, Uleris. How can I fail to acknowledge that?_ In sooth, this promised to be a difficult relationship. Although Maia and Chavar had never previously met, Maia knew what policies Chavar was reputed to favour and how he viewed goblins. His elation at Idra’s presence in the Rose Room was another telling sign. Maia sensed he would need to find a new chancellor quickly, but in the meantime, he needed to forge at least a semblance of a basic working relationship with Chavar.

Maia buried his urge to fidget. “We wish to discuss our coronation and the funeral arrangements.”

Chavar had, of course, been expecting an answer of this sort. If Maia was not abdicating in favour of Idra, what he would want to discuss at this early hour was obvious. Although he showed no hint of enthusiasm for the task, he explained the preparations being made and went over the expected arrival times for the princes and the elder of Maia’s half-sisters. He then paused and frowned deeply.

“Did Arbelan Drazharan travel to the court with you, serenity?”

“She didn’t,” Maia answered, “but we would like her present for the coronation. Please arrange for an airship to go to Cethoree this afternoon.” He turned to Idra. “She’s sure to bring Bizhu with her. It might cheer Mirean a little to know that Bizhu will be arriving.”

Idra chuckled. Mirean had fallen in love Bizhu — now a stout tomcat with beefy cheeks who sauntered about Cethoree in the full conviction that he was the true master of the house — from their first meeting. No letter from Nemolis, Idra or Mirean failed to include an inquiry about Bizhu’s welfare.

“I’ll be certain to tell her,” Idra said, a hint of a smile still on his lips.

Maia nodded but did not let himself indulge in mirth. “There’s an element of the proceedings we wish to address. Namely, the two companions who are to company us to our vigil in preparation for the coronation.”

“Are they to be personages from outside the court, serenity? Do you wish for airships to be arranged for them also?” Chavar asked.

“Thank you, no,” Maia replied, ignoring the needling in Chavar’s question.

There was no sense in being hurt by the truth. While Maia was no longer a shy, friendless urchin, none of his friends were at court. Some, like Sibenar and Emero, were pursuing their university studies. Most, like Maia himself had been, were preparing to start their studies in the spring.

Maia was to have gone to the University of Zhao. He had actually been up late, mulling over which of the university’s three fencing clubs he should join when the _Tenacity of Rosiro_ moored at Cethoree. From that moment, the future Maia had envisioned for himself would never be — no passionate discussions with university scholars, no rowdy fencing clubs, no late-night drinking societies. Only duty, from this day until he had no days left to live.

He shook his head to clear the self-pitying thoughts out of his mind. “We have friends whom we’d be overjoyed to have at our side, but we would be a poor friend to them in asking them to get involved in the murk of court politics and gossip. For we are sure no choice we make will pass without comment and they, not us, will bear the brunt of that commentary. No, we wish to be accompanied by our kin like our great-grandfather was at his coronation.”

“In that case, serenity, your closest male adult relative is Marquess Imel. Beyond that, you have a number of more distant cousins who could be suitable. Our office will compile a list for your consideration.”

“We had three half-brothers yesterday,” Maia said bitterly. “Would that we were so fortunate today. Alas, our male relatives are fewer in number this morning. Imel will have to be one, but we don’t wish any cousins involved. We have no cause to show any of them favour. Prince Idra will accompany us.”

_Let them see how tightly Idra and I are bound. Too tightly for anyone to pry us apart and use him against me._

“I’d be honoured to, but…”

Idra shot him a bewildered look while Chavar seemed to temporarily lose control of his jaw.

“Serenity, the ritual prescribes two adult men,” he sputtered out once he regained something of himself.

“The ritual prescribes two companions, nothing more. Custom, and not an especially old one in the context of the long history of the Ethuveraz, has taught the Untheileneise Court to expect two adult men. It will not profane the ritual to divert from this custom. If you doubt our understanding of the coronation rituals, please confer with the Archprelate and confirm it with him.”

Maia tried not to expose himself to the others in the room while his stomach twisted with another wave of grief. Ciris was the one who explained this to Maia. When Ciris could shift the oblong object ordinarily lodged up his arse, he had been a rich well of well-considered advice and obscure trivia about the history and customs of the Ethuveraz.

Chavar, for his part, must have sensed Maia was not about to back down. “We will speak to the Archprelate, serenity.”

“Thank you,” Maia replied.

It was a pity that Imel, a man Maia would struggle to pick out of a crowd, had to be involved. Maia would have preferred Vedero with him. But Idra’s presence would spark comment enough; a woman’s presence at his side might well drive half the court to apoplexy. Things would change in time, but Maia needed to have patience with the sensibilities of his subjects.

“Maia,” Idra said softly. “I truly would be honoured to go to the vigil chapel with thee. I take it this is why I was to stay, yes? If so, I had best depart now, lest the court starts thinking that we are to co-rule the Elflands.”

“An that were a possibility.” Maia sighed. As much as it was a comfort to have Idra in the room, it was unkind to force Idra to stay. “Please give thy sisters a hug for me. And wouldst thou speak to thy mother and Vedero? I would like to dine with them tonight.”

“I will, on both counts. What about Csoru?”

“Csoru? I suppose she’ll need to be in attendance also. I’ll have an invitation sent.”

Idra bowed and wished both Maia and Chavar farewell when Maia remembered another thing that briefly crossed his mind sometime in the pre-dawn murk. “Idra, wait. When Kirilen retired, he settled in Cetho. Does he still live there?”

“I think so?” Idra replied, his ears twitching. “Why the question?”

“The imperial secretaries and Kirilen’s replacement perished with our fathers. I will need new secretarial staff. Someone experienced like Kirilen would be ideal, even if for a short time only.”

“That’s a fine idea. I’ll request for a courier to be sent to summon him to the Alcethmeret.”

With Idra gone, Maia and Chavar broached the conversation of the arrangements for the funeral service that had to take place. But they didn’t get beyond agreeing on a date when there was a knock. Eishevar opened the door a crack and slipped inside.

“We beg your pardon, serenity,” he said stiffly. He was probably as overwhelmed as Maia felt at finding himself at the centre of the court; Maia would need to find a spare moment and speak with him before the end of the day. “There’s a lieutenant here who says he has been ordered by Captain Orthema to present himself to you. He insists that it cannot wait until your current audience has concluded.”

“If he’s from Orthema, he’d be your nohecharei,” Chavar said.

“Ah. Then the man is right, it cannot wait. Please let him in.”

The lieutenant’s uniform gleamed with a perfection that could only be achieved from hours of scrubbing and polishing. Maia guessed he was another who had gone without sleep this night. Yet the man showed no hint of tiredness as he went down to his knees and declared, “We are Lieutenant Deret Beshelar, serenity. We are at your service if it so pleases you.”

“Well met, lieutenant,” Maia responded. “Please rise. We…”

What was he to be named now? He could not be crowned Maia Drazhar — that did not have nearly enough syllables. Not Varenechibel either. Most certainly not Varenechibel. Even Nemolis had not intended to continue that tradition, he had told Maia as much. But it had seemed like prying then to ask which name he would take. Maia now wished he had been rude enough to pry.

For a moment, Maia considered fashioning some portmanteau out of Chenelo and Nemolis’ names, but nothing came to him that did not sound ridiculous. He mentally ran through the names of earlier dynasties. Setheris Nelar had smacked him with a ruler if Maia faltered in his recitation and a decade later, the names were firmly etched in his mind. Still, he almost despaired as he rejected one possibility after another until one left his breath caught in the hollow of his throat.

“We are,” Maia said, “to be Edrehasivar Zhas, the seventh of that name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the last chapter. I hope it wasn't too much of a downer; what fluff there is turned out to be bitter-sweet.   
> Looking back at the fic... coming up with names for the airships was unexpectedly fun, but TGE-appropriate character names vex me. I'm also a little sad that the envisaged scene where Nazhira and Nemolis take Maia to see his mother's tomb (to visit all their mothers' tombs in reality) didn't end up fitting anywhere in the story.


End file.
